


The Heart Knows

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curses, F/M, Femdom, Getting Together, Hogwarts Professors, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, Lots of Tea, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, light kink, side neville/ginny, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: It’s four years after the war. Hermione hates her job, misses having a love life, and does a lot of extra-curricular reading. Severus has a frozen heart (no, really), has taken up drinking, and does quite a lot of spying. They both drink a lot of tea, and both have returned to Hogwarts without high hopes or expectations. After all, what is there to look forward to when you’re forced to work with someone you mostly, probably hate?





	The Heart Knows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMightyFlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/gifts).



> This was written for TheMightyFlynn for the sshg_giftfest winter exchange on Livejournal. I had a blast writing it. Thank you loads to Oceaxe and Dreamy Dragon for the beta work.

_“Aahhh,_ ” Severus sighed as he fell into his favorite squishy armchair, the one next to the lamp with the green shade that cast a green glow, tucked up next to one of the tall bookshelves. It was by no means the only bookshelf lining the walls of his tiny sitting room. In fact, there wasn’t much wall left. The room was like a cave, the air steeped with the musty smell of old pages. Which suited him well and brought a warm spark to his otherwise frigid heart.

And that was no metaphor. Nagini’s bite had not only torn half his throat away and left a permanent scar rivaling Nearly Headless Nick’s—it was a miracle the staff at St Mungo’s had managed to put him back together, really—but the snake’s poison had crept into his heart, slowly turning tissue into solid ice. The only thing the Healers had accomplished in that regard was to slow down the progress, eventually expunging Severus’ body of all traces of the poison. But by that time, the ice had taken over three out of four quadrants.

It was stabilized. It did not melt. Magical ice, especially the Dark Magic kind, was not so easily expunged by the powers of body heat. His heart was mostly ice, and that was just how it would stay. Had the poison spread to the whole heart, he would have died. Yet, there was one quarter that had avoided the freeze. One human part left, and it was all that was keeping him alive.

Sometimes the ice pained him, and for that Severus splashed a bit—oh alright, sometimes a third of a bottle—of homemade pain relief potion into his tea, and occasionally into a glass of straight vodka. Well, his day usually started off with vodka and ended with tea. Quite the opposite of most people’s days.

In fact, there may even be vodka in his tea right now.

The mornings were always the worst, and he’d wake up from the stabbing ache in his chest. It felt as though icicles had grown overnight and were poking and prodding at him from the inside.

By the evening, the pain dulled considerably. But it always felt like something was off. Like there was extra weight on his chest. Like he was strangely unbalanced.

A good cup of tea generally warmed him right up. The hot liquid trickling down his throat radiated heat through his body. He put his lips to his cup and prepared to savor the tart taste of rooibos mixed with the more bitter taste of blissful pain reliever.

But there was banging on his door.

Severus sighed again, though this time it was not a happy one, and slammed his cup back onto its saucer. Getting up from his chair was not something he had intended on doing for at least an hour, not until his cup got cold and he needed another.

Who the devil was calling at this time of night? It was eight o’clock, and Severus never entertained visitors after eight o’ clock. Actually, he never entertained visitors at all.

So who the hell was this?

He couldn’t make anything out when he looked through the peep hole. The glass must be smudged. His view was obstructed by something fuzzy and brown.

It was only after he opened the door he realized it had been the insane cloud of Hermione Granger’s hair.

He stood there staring at her for a moment, or possibly thirty minutes, trying to figure out if he was imagining her. Granger, at his door? It had taken him a second to even recognize her. She looked the same, but different. Older. Sharper cheekbones and even sharper eyes.

“Professor Snape,” she said by way of greeting, her clipped syllables strikingly familiar. “It is raining, so would you please step aside and let me in?”

So it was. The umbrella charm around her head repelled the rain, but the drops hit the pavement and splashed all over her Wellington boots. Despite being dry, she shivered.

“What are you doing here?” He had no intention of letting her inside. In fact, the sooner he could get rid of her, the better. Though he was quite curious as to the reason for her spontaneous visit.

“If you would let me in, I could explain.”

Would arguing with her make this go any faster? He decided it wouldn’t, so he opened the door wider and allowed her to step through. His memories of Granger as a student reminded him how insufferably stubborn she was. He was in too much pain to argue with her in a frigid doorway.

He walked back to his little nook and picked up his tea, taking large gulps. It was laced with his potion so the stabbing in his chest should subside any minute now. Though with her here, he likely wouldn’t be spared a headache.

When he looked back at her, it was to see her staring open mouthed at the walls.

“I have a lot of books,” he stated dryly.

She collected herself, her wide-eyed expression disappearing. “Yes, there are… many.”

“I recall you enjoying books.”

She snorted. “Anyone who knows me would say that was an understatement. I read quite a lot.” She clasped her hands behind her back and strolled in a circle, admiring the shelves. “I was called a bookworm back at school. But you’re a bit of a bookworm yourself, aren’t you Professor?” A tiny smile curled at the corners of her mouth.

“I am no longer a professor, so I’d prefer if you addressed me simply as Snape. It would be more appropriate.”

“Yes… about that.” She twirled on a heel to fully face him. “You must know Professor McGonagall has been writing to you.”

Severus exhaled hard through his nose. Not this again. “What are you doing here, again, Granger?” He suspected he now knew.

“You cannot deny you’ve received her letters. The Hogwarts owls are most persistent.”

“I have received the letters. So what? I am under no obligation to reply.”

“That is very rude.”

His patience was already thin, having been roused from his evening ritual of tea and reading. His tea was getting cold. “I still don’t see how this is any of your business, Granger, nor why you are at my house.”

“McGonagall sent me.”

“Sent you?” So Granger and McGonagall had remained in touch. He shouldn’t be surprised; they were not dissimilar in many regards, and McGonagall would value the intellectual prowess and assiduous nature of the girl. But why should she send Granger here?

“I am not sure if you are aware, being that you’ve been confined to hospital these last four years—by the way, I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Are you?” He could feel his lip curl.

Granger ignored his incredulity. “The thing is, we are still in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Severus was faintly aware of the ticking clock above his writing desk. Did he hear her right? “In her initial letters, which I did open, McGonagall spoke of the Potions position. She wants me to fill the vacancy.”

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here. Since you won’t reply to her letters and she can have no guarantee you’re even reading them, she wanted to make sure you got the message. You see, she’s found someone else for the Potions position. What she’s willing to offer you now is the Defense post.”

The Defense post. _The_ Defense post. To be his?

Severus didn’t know whether to laugh or to smash something. It was all a monstrous joke.

“How many years,” he began shakily, his voice a mere whisper, “have I requested the position? And how many years was I turned down?”

Granger pushed a lock of hair from her face, which softened the slightest.

“Now she wants me to fill the post? Now that I’ve sworn never to step foot in that castle again, and now that I’m barely able.”

Granger didn’t know about the condition of his heart and how it limited him. However, McGonagall knew perfectly well after his last, and final, letter relaying how sick he still was. Full recovery would never be achievable. The least they could let him do was live out his remaining miserable years in peace.

“You look very well to me—”

“Well, I’m not well!”

Granger’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s true that I don’t know the details of your condition. All I meant was…. She would like you to consider the offer. She thought the position was enough leverage to bring you back.”

“Ha!” They were bitter words to his ears. “And why is she so obsessed with having me back? First of all, I am a pariah. None of the parents would want me teaching their precious children.”

“Harry spoke for you at the trials.”

The mention of Potter’s name felt like a whiplash.

“You were still in St Mungo’s then, obviously, but he publicly exonerated you. You must be aware of this, surely.”

“I don’t need his pardoning,” he spat. “Or his acceptance.”

Her lips pursed. “Then the public’s?”

“Nor theirs,” he spat. “Voldemort could have offed the lot of them for all I care. I did none of it for them.” His hand went to his chest, where a stabbing pain erupted. He rubbed his fingers over the spot, easing the frigid ache.

“For god’s sake.”

“Oh, fuck off, Granger. This is none of your business, like I’ve said.”

She inhaled sharply as though to keep a hold on her temper. The colour in her cheeks gave her away. “It is if I’m going to be assisting you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He went over to his teacup and picked it up so roughly, some of it splashed onto his hand. One gulp was enough to make him scowl. It was cold. He’d have to make another.

Waste of perfectly good potion in there.

He walked into the kitchen, and she followed him. It was not a large house, and Severus couldn’t even say he was particularly fond of it. It had been the home where he’d grown up in squalor and terror, and the only reason he’d kept it was in memory of his mother and to have had a place away from Hogwarts over the summers. Now it was to be his permanent residence since he intended to stay far away from Hogwarts for the rest of his life.

He shot a spell at the stove and made the flame go on. Time to warm the pot again. If Granger thought he was going to ask her if she’d like some, she was delusional.

“I’m applying to be a professor, too,” Granger said.

“Bully for you.” He measured out the tea leaves into a new cup. “Why don’t you take the bloody post?” Though he hated the idea and became flooded with resentment instantly.

“There’ve been some changes as to how professors are chosen. The school governors and the parents had some concerns about the way professors had been chosen in the past. You can’t just teach right off the bat anymore. You need to do an assistantship at Hogwarts for a whole year before teaching a class of your own.”

Just before the pot whistled, Severus took it off and poured the water into his cup. Fuck the pain reliever; Granger was driving him crazy. He picked up the heavy glass bottle of vodka on his counter and poured to the brim. Granger halted in her little speech to stare, and it pleased him to have shocked her.

“You don’t have to assist in the post you want,” she continued as if he cared. “Any available post will do. And the only assistantship open for me was for, well, for Defense.”

He looked at her. “And this is supposed to convince me to come back? I thought you were trying to make it sound appealing.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t thrilled when I learned of the arrangement either.”

“So the draw is that I get the position I’ve always wanted. The con is that I have to work with you?”

She furrowed her eyebrows as she frowned. “I will be assisting you and as a result, learning how to teach. Or that’s the idea.” She folded her arms in front of her.

It had been a long time since Severus had gotten to torment anyone with a little lightweight bullying. Unfortunately, the idea appealed to him terribly. And it would be Granger, no less; the more puckish side of him was buzzing. He thought of the alternative: being bored out of his mind here in Cokeworth.

And it _was_ the Defense position.

“Who’s the new potions professor?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might. It might be someone I hate.” He took a sip of his tea even though it was still scalding. The taste of vodka was heavenly.

Granger laughed, and it was not an unpleasant sound. “It’s Whylma Zabini.”

Severus nearly choked, and he coughed into his cup. “You can’t be serious.”

Granger’s eyes darkened. “I had the same reaction.”

“That woman, in charge of Potions? Do you know how her husbands died?”

“From what I gather from my research, at least four of the seven died of poisoning.”

He raised his eyebrows and found her mirroring him.

“I’m surprised McGonagall allowed it,” he said.

“She had no say in the matter. Mrs Zabini showed up with papers stating proof of teaching experience, and the governing board hired her on the spot.”

Severus rolled his eyes. The blasted place was just the same as ever: unorganized, ill-advised, and running amuck with idiots. On the other hand, there was something comfortingly familiar in that. Clearly the school needed him as much as ever. There had to be at least one non-insane professor teaching there. Presumably they still had the ogre—no, the giant—in Magical Creatures, that dead bore in History, and that halfwit Flitwick in Charms. Sprout smoked half the stuff she grew, Trelawney was raving mad, and the librarian was sleeping with Filch. And now there was a murderous lunatic on staff.

“I suppose Minerva’s desperate.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What would you say?” He couldn’t help the smug smirk curving his lips, which he knew annoyed her by the set in her jaw.

“I’d say she’s concerned for your well being.”

“Or panicking at the state of the place. She needs me there. If she admits that, then I’ll come back.”

Granger rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily. “The school term starts tomorrow! I’ve been sent here to fetch you, so there really isn’t time for your petty games. You’ll either take the Defense position or McGonagall will have to teach it herself.”

Well, then. There was so much to consider. To have the whole thing sprung on him like this… Though arguably it wasn’t sprung, as McGonagall _had_ been writing all summer and he _had_ been tossing the letters in the bin.

“There’s no reason for her to worry about me,” he said. “I’m not her charity case.”

Granger sighed.

“What’s it to you, anyway? If I were out of the picture, you’d be assisting Minerva and you’d be happy as a clam. I can’t imagining you chomping at the bit to assist me instead.”

Granger put her hands on her hips. “I’m just trying to help Professor McGonagall in any way I can. It’s true, you’re the last person on earth whose assistant I’d want to be. But it’s only for one school year and then I’ll be shot of you. And you would get a job and save her the stress of wondering after your well being. Though why she cares, I don’t know, because you definitely don’t deserve it.”

Severus regarded her closely. Her frizzy hair was made possibly more so by the night’s humidity, and it resembled a dark halo around her pale face. She had certainly grown into herself and lost the awkwardness of adolescence. He wondered how old she must be now. The war was four years ago so she couldn’t be more than twenty-one. He had been in hospital for so long.

Perhaps he’d spent enough days sitting and lying around, recuperating for ages only for them to conclude there was no more they could do. This was as good as he was going to get. And if he spent the next few months here, alone, he was just going to rot into his threadbare furniture, and possibly be eaten by moths. As much as he liked his solitude, he didn’t much care for moths.

And the cooking at Hogwarts was decidedly better than his own.

“Fine, Granger. You will wait for me to pack my things.” He lifted his wand and his suitcase began thumping upstairs, collecting his belongings.

 

 

><

 

  
Hermione pushed the door to the Three Broomsticks open so hastily she nearly knocked over the wizard coming out. Muttering an apology, she bypassed him and scanned the place for Nev and Gin. She hated being late. Especially when she barely got to see any of her old friends anymore because they were all so busy these days. Neville worked as an assistant professor for Sprout, and Ginny had been drafted by the Holyhead Harpies. They had begun dating only six months ago, but Ginny had confided in Hermione that feelings had blossomed way before then, back during the war.

The whole situation had caused rather a large kerfuffle among the gang.

“Over here!” Neville waved to her from a table in the corner. He was sitting next to Ginny in the booth, and Hermione took the chair opposite them.

“Hello! It’s so good to see you both.”

“You too,” Ginny said. “Neville tells me he barely catches a glimpse of you around the castle. Has Snape got you running around like a headless chicken?”

“Does he ever. The man is just as exacting and infuriating as he always was. It seems spending years recovering from a near-fatal snake bite has done nothing to mellow him out.”

“I don’t envy you one bit,” Neville said. “Sprout’s got high standards of her own, but I’m sure they’re nothing compared to Snape’s.” He visibly shuddered. “It’s what I tell myself when I’m depotting Mandrake roots at ten o’clock at night: at least I’m not Hermione.”

Ginny laughed.

“Thanks,” Hermione said. “I’m glad my misery is helping you cope.”

“It really is.”

Ginny nudged him with her elbow. “Why don’t you get us some drinks, love?”

“Sure. A pint of lager for you?”

“You know my usual.” She smiled at him.

“And for you,” he said to Hermione as he was getting up, “a glass of dandelion wine, am I right?”

“Actually, Nev, get me the goblin rum with a shot of espresso.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You never drink hard liquor.”

Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples. “I need serious booze, I need coffee… why not both at once?”

“You really are being worked to death, aren’t you?”

When he left, Hermione leaned over the table and smiled at Ginny. “So, tell me everything.”

“Oh, you might not want to know.”

“I absolutely do!”

Ginny grinned slyly. “Can you handle a bit of kink?”

Hermione put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Ginny! Are you serious?”

Ginny nodded. She leaned her elbows on the table, tossing long red hair over her shoulder. “It’s something we’ve been trying out lately. We sort of stumbled into it. Neville is just so… accommodating.”

That set them both off giggling.

It was a little embarrassing to think of Neville in that way! He was an old friend, and Hermione had only just realized that some part of her still thought of him as the clumsy, pudgy little boy he used to be. But anyone with eyes in their head could see Neville was not a little boy any more. God, how had she never noticed?

A spike of jealousy rose up in her chest, and it actually alarmed her. Why was she jealous?

Hermione’s relationship with Ron had been short-lived, and though insanely hot while it lasted—she still occasionally wanked over the memories of Ron touching her with those solid, rough hands, however bittersweet the orgasm—she hadn’t been with anyone else since. She’d just been so busy, working or researching or studying, and as soon as she blinked four years went by. It dawned on her that she was envious of the passionate affair that Ginny and Neville had and that was lacking in her own life.

“He’s always been very eager,” Ginny said in a lowered voice. “One night when he went down on me, I think I said something like, ‘You love it, don’t you? You love eating pussy.’ And he responded with, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

Hermione bit her lip and tried not to giggle. Not because the concept was ridiculous or laughable—but because it wasn’t. Could Ginny tell how turned on she was by the idea? Did she notice how Hermione’s cheeks burned when she imagined Ginny’s boyfriend on his knees, his toned body stripped of clothes, his boyish face looking up with adoration and awe. His plush lips slightly parted.

She swallowed and shifted in her seat.

“It all took off from there,” Ginny said.

Hermione let out a stream of air. “I have to admit, I wouldn’t know what to do about it.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny’s brow furrowed.

“I just… When someone says that… What happens next?”

“You just tell him to eat you out well or he’ll get spanked.”

“Ginny!”

“It is ridiculously hot,” Ginny admitted. “I have never been so turned on in my life. And we just can’t stop doing it. I swear we have sex at least once a day, sometimes twice if he is in the mood, because he _loves_ eating me out.”

“Do you… return the favor every time?”

“Not at all. He only gets a blow job when he’s been very good.”

“Oh, god. That’s really hot.”

“Also—”

“There’s more?” She didn’t know if she could stand to hear more.

Ginny grinned. “There’s so much more. For instance, he has rules to follow during the day, and if he’s followed them all and has pleased me, I reward him. It’s all up to my discretion.”

Hermione’s brain boggled for a moment. Rules? She liked rules. They were one of her favorite things. The relative order of Hermione’s favorite things went: books, rules, and forming committees, although the latter two often went hand in hand. There was something fundamentally satisfying about a good set of rules with a purpose and an effective outcome when followed by its adherents. Conversely, there were few things in this world that irked her more than people who willfully ignored rules, or even worse, were lackadaisical about them.

The idea of a man following her specific rules appealed in a way she had never known it would. Something was happening to her, something hot and tingly that began in her gut and spread to other places and made her clench her legs together.

“And he’s….” Hermione cleared her throat, finding it scratchy. “Okay with that?”

“He loves it! Listen, it’s not like some kind of hardship for him.”

Hermione snorted. “I wouldn’t think so, with daily sex.”

“We check in with each other quite often to make sure we’re both still having fun. If he ever decided he wanted to stop or take a break, I would gladly drop the act.”

“So it’s all like a big fantasy that you both decided to enact, and you make up the rules as you go.”

“Exactly. Don’t doubt for a second that he doesn’t love every bloody minute of it. He gets really into the submissive role.”

Neville came back with their drinks so, sadly, they had to stop talking about him. He gave Hermione a funny look, and she realized her face must be bright red. They commenced their conversation about life at Hogwarts, updating Ginny on the comings and goings of the professors, the students, and the ghosts. Ginny asked after her favorite, the Bloody Baron, and Hermione told her he was still morose and broody, to which Ginny replied she wouldn’t have him any other way.

“I have to get going,” Neville said, looking at his watch. “Sprout wants me back to mark essays for her. The sixth years have started on Snargaluffs, and they had to write three feet on the best method for pod extraction.”

“Ugh, I remember those,” Hermione said with a shiver. “Horrible, viney creatures.”

“They’re plants, not creatures.” 

She gave him a look. “I knew that.”

“Of course,” Neville said. “So Snape didn’t give you any homework to mark tonight?”

“Miraculously, he went out this evening, and I think he forgot to leave me anything.”

“Out?” Ginny said, putting her arm through a coat sleeve. “Where does Snape _go_?”

Hermione chuckled. “I wish I knew.”

“Do you really, though?” Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, it can’t be that horrible. Maybe he’s part of a stamp collecting club.” Hermione smiled at the ridiculous idea.

“A sarcastic arseholes support group?” Neville added as they began walking out of the pub.

The moon was already out. The days were so short in December. Christmas break was approaching, and everyone at Hogwarts was preparing for the end of term exams. She loved this time of year, when the snow fell softly on the cobblestoned streets of Hogsmeade and the House Elves made sweet hot cocoa for her when they knew she was staying up late prepping next week’s lesson plan.

The street looked beautiful with the twinkling lamplight obscured by falling snow and the meandering residents doing their holiday shopping. Hermione felt warm and happy from the rum and didn’t fancy going back to the castle just yet.

“I think I’ll stay a bit longer,” she told Neville. Ginny offered to walk him back and Disapparate from the gates, and in fact they seemed glad for the opportunity to be alone for a while.

Hermione let her feet take her where they would. She buttoned her green tweed coat as a cold burst of air passed through. That conversation with Ginny had been… interesting. Why had she never thought of such things before? Maybe it was because all the romance novels she’d read as a teenager featured the swashbuckling sort of men who wanted to pin down a helpless damsel. It was always that or the stoic, Edwardian hero of the classic literature she adored, with their quiet, noble dominance.

She could not recall ever reading about a man who was perhaps more… Worshipful.

Her favorite bookshop in Hogsmeade, Tomes and Scrolls, wouldn’t close their doors for at least another hour, so she had time to do some meandering among their stacks. They had quite the extensive romance section, which Hermione wasn’t ashamed to say she was familiar with; it was a diversion that had lingered since her teenage days. Beyond the romance novels there was also the curtained section… Hermione hadn’t ventured in there yet, but perhaps this was the perfect night to take the leap. She had heard rumors that the subject matter of the books behind that purple, velvet curtain went beyond romance.

There lived the erotica.

The bell tinkered as she entered the shop and then quickly shut the door against the chill. Drusella, the elderly witch who owned Tomes and Scrolls, nodded to her. Hermione had gotten to know her well this year, as she was a frequent patron. Drusella performed miracles in finding even the most obscure books on Hermione’s reading list (she didn’t read _just_ romance novels).

There weren’t many people shopping at this hour. A woman was looking through the autobiography section, and a man in black was standing with his back to her—oh bugger, that was Snape!

Hermione immediately spun on her heel and squatted behind a pile of precariously stacked books.

She didn’t know why she was hiding. It wasn’t as though she had any reason to hide from Snape, and she was allowed to be in a book shop! Working together for three months now, they had fostered an almost acquaintance-like relationship. Calling it a friendship would be laughable; in fact, she almost did laugh right there.

But she was a woman on a mission, and she eyed the purple curtain to her right. It hung there, all drapey and inviting, calling to her with its promise of horribly dirty things. Snape was a work colleague—her boss, unfortunately, as he liked to remind her from time to time by referring to himself as her _superior_ —and as such, she did not want him witnessing her going in there. No, no. It simply wouldn’t be right or proper.

He would know what she was looking for. There was only one thing someone could be reading if they went in there. That is, if the rumors about the curtained section were true, and she had it on good authority from some of the other teaching assistants that they were. Apparently reading erotica was just a normal thing now among girls her age. Maybe she could pretend she was a normal girl her age by flashing some of it around in the assistants’ lounge. _Look, everyone, I’m just an average twenty-one year old reading porn like the rest of you. It’s not The Encyclopedia of Magical Fungi like last week. This is much more socially acceptable._

It was just that she couldn’t let Snape see her going in there. How mortifying.

Oh well, she’d have to make a run for it. She couldn’t very well be caught squatting behind a stack of books, either. If she stayed in this spot, he was sure to see her when he went to leave. She looked around to see what section she was in just in case she had to pretend to be disgustingly interested in it. Oh god, Divination?

No, she had to get to the porn section now, while his back was turned.

She sprinted across the room as quietly as she could and felt instant relief when the curtain swayed shut behind her. She’d made it; she was safe.

It was finally time for the fun part: perusing the shelves.

It didn’t take long for her to find it—the selection of books that even erotica hid. She went to the far right section that curved into an alcove. The hidden among the hidden. The BDSM books.

She must have spent eons there, running her fingers across each spine, picking up books at random to read the inside cover. A seeping heat crawled its way between her legs with each title until she suspected she must be totally wet.

The clang of the closing gong reverberated throughout the shop, signaling another fifteen minutes for purchases.

Startled out of her reverie, Hermione inspected the options piled in her arms. She had to make a decision.

 _The Good Girl’s Guide to Femdom: What Every Witch Should Know About Dominating the Wizard in Her Life_. There was a whip and a high heeled shoe on the cover. It sounded instructive, which appealed to Hermione, but it also sounded a bit stupid. What did being a “good girl” have to do with anything? She put it back on the shelf.

 _The Queen’s Royal Servant._ A romance about a queen in Egypt whose muscled and gorgeous slave worshipped her body while perpetually naked and in chains. This one was definitely a maybe. The problem was, Hermione never saw herself as the queenly type. She never played princess when she was younger, not even with her dolls. Doctor Barbie was always trying to make it through her residency before Hermione’s mum made her come down to dinner.

 _Lock Him Up and Evanesco the Key._ A guide to keeping a man in chastity that expounded on both Muggle and magical methods for lock up. Intriguing… but perhaps too advanced for her at this time?

 _The Governess._ A story set in Victorian England about a matronly governess who delivered swift discipline to her unruly pupil. The summary promised spanking, caning, and obedience training. Hermione would have preferred if the governess were younger, and the male pupil older, but the premise turned her on enough to ignore the details. There was _obedience training_. This was the one.

Book clutched to her chest so as to hide the cover—a young man in his underpants standing before a desk—Hermione poked her head around the curtain.

Damn it, Snape was still there!

What the hell was he doing here for so long? Was he going to purchase anything or not? She glared at his back as he picked books up and put books down in a torturously endless cycle, as if time weren’t running out. The store was going to close before she could buy her porn. She had already emotionally committed to this: if she didn’t go home with some wank material tonight, she was going to be seriously pissed off.

There was no use. She inhaled deeply, said goodbye to her pride, and stepped out from behind the curtain.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice her, she hoped as she approached the counter. He seemed deeply absorbed in whatever it was he was doing. It was entirely possible that she could pay for her book and leave before Snape even turned around. She practically threw money at Drusella and mumbled for her to keep the change.

 

><

 

  
Severus heard heavy footsteps to his left and turned to see bloody Granger disappearing into the porn section. He snorted and looked back down at the book he was holding on the history of Gringotts.

He continued to peruse the shelves, looking for something diverting to take home and read at night. He didn’t find much of interest, and half an hour later, Granger emerged from the erotica section looking twitchy and skittish.

Should he ruin her night and demand to know what she was buying? He chuckled to himself. _“This is not Hogwarts sanctioned reading material, Granger, you should know better. Shame on you, and you’re fired. And fifty points from Gryffindor.”_

He had taken points from Gryffindor earlier today and it put a bounce in his step.

His opportunity to torture the girl passed. She practically ran out of the store moments later, the bell on the door clanging in her wake.

He had seen Granger reading her romantic looking novels occasionally during the past months, but he had yet to catch her with erotica or anything close to being inappropriate work material. Tonight, she would probably hide in her room with her contraband and not emerge until morning. He could picture her on her bed wrapped in her burgundy Gryffindor bathrobe, eyes wide as she read her dirty novel.

They shared Snape’s old quarters. All the new assistants had to be housed somewhere, and the solution was to stick them in with the professors they worked for. In the Dark Arts suite, a large pantry was converted into a tiny bedroom, consisting only of a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table with a lamp. Granger had also managed to squeeze in a very thin bookshelf, which she overstuffed to the point of collapse. Severus had had to go in and fix it with a glue charm.

The little kitchenette with single stove and the tiny sink; the sitting area with the squishy armchair and the loveseat sofa that was small enough to fit; the tiny bathroom with the claw foot tub that Severus was too tall to lie down in. They were all half Granger’s now.

She could take baths in the tub because she was half his size, and oddly, that pissed him off.

He left the shop without purchasing anything, as he was in a very strange mood and nothing appealed. As the snow swirled around him and the wind tore at his robes, he continued to walk down the road back to Hogwarts without even casting a warming charm. The ice in his heart made him immune to the cold.

He usually never left the castle since returning this year, having nowhere to go and no one to see, but tonight he had made a very special appointment. The hag met him at the Hog’s Head, hunched over in her seat, her face covered in warts. Hags were repugnant creatures and Severus didn’t have much of a stomach for them, but they did possess their own strain of magic, as all creatures did, that wizards simply didn’t have. Hags were good at two things: kidnapping and eating Muggle children, and curing curses.

“You have not been a good man, Severus Snape,” the hag spat, staring at him with her yellow eyes. She grinned with equally yellow teeth and seemed gleeful to impart such bad tidings.

“Just tell me what you know, hag.”

“You had this cold heart long before it froze.”

He willed down a vile response to her ignorance. She didn’t know him, even though she was acting as if she did. There was something creepy about this hag. All of them were creepy, but this one took the biscuit . When she looked at him, it was like she could truly _see_ him.

“How can one possibly have a cold heart if one has been in love?” His voice was quiet and strained, and he sat rigid in his seat.

“It is true, you have loved. But your love has long been overshadowed by other things.” She leaned into him and he caught a whiff of her putrid breath. “Bitterness, hatred, and anger. All these things can freeze a heart.”

Her words stung, but he refused to let himself be baited. And if years spying on Voldemort had taught him anything, it was self restraint in the face of a rising temper. “And the cure?”

“You wonder if there is hope for you.” She looked at him long and hard, so long that the smile fell from her lips, and then she nodded. “Yes, there is hope for you, Severus Snape. You may thaw that heart yet.”

“ _How_?”

“Many do not know this, but the key to freeing a heart is simply to listen to it.”

He watched her take a sip of her stinky moss ale. He waited.

“That’s it?” He barked out a laugh. “Listen to your heart? Is that all you have to say?”

“That is the only thing to say. That is the answer.”

“Are you quite well in the head, hag? Do you expect me to pay you for this?”

He did pay her, but he threw the money pouch on the table so hard it split at the seam and the Sickles rolled all over the floor. He’d stormed out of the pub and Apparated back to Hogsmeade immediately.

That was a waste of an otherwise perfectly good evening he could have spent watching Granger mark essays. He was never leaving Hogwarts again. There really was no point.

When he got back to the room, he found the place quiet and dark and Granger’s door firmly shut.

He thought he might see her the next morning, but by the time he woke up at six she was still nowhere to be found. The only evidence she had been awake before him was that now her bedroom door was left open a crack.

He knew he should leave it alone, but his curiosity made him do it. He pushed open the door with his fingertips, and it creaked slowly on its hinges. Her bed was impeccably made. A scarf hung on a hook over a couple of her extra handbags. Her bookshelf looked even more packed than usual.

He scanned it but couldn’t possibly expect to make out which one was the new book. He opened the drawer in her bedside table and didn’t find any illicit reading material; only a pile of stationary paper, an extra quill, and some hair pins.

She’s probably taken it with her. What a shame. His little spying game was actually exciting him. Perhaps she was just good at hiding things—but not as good as Severus was at finding them. He cast a spell of his own invention that swept over the room and scanned for anything that had been purposely hidden, their owner’s intent palpable to the detecting magic.

Something glowed underneath her pillow, and he almost smacked himself for neglecting to look there. What an absolutely obvious spot.

 _The Governess_ stared up at him. A small paperback, couldn’t be more than 200 pages. She must have read it all in one sitting.

He wondered if she’d wanked over it.

A bloom of heat made him cough suddenly into his arm. He was so used to the sting of ice, his body was momentarily shocked.

He picked up the book and read the back cover. It made him chuckle softly to himself.

_Interesting, Granger. Very interesting._

He thought about that novel all through breakfast, smiling secretly into his porridge. And still thought about it afterward in his office while prepping for the day’s first lesson. He was thinking about it so much he had to make a quick visit to the loo.

That was not the type of erotic novel he had pictured her picking up yesterday when he saw her at the shop. He imagined her having some sort of fetish for athletes, as he seemed to remember her taking the famous Victor Krum to the Yule Ball. However, that was ages ago and she’d been only a teenager. There was also that article in the _Prophet_ one year about Granger dating Potter—also an athlete, also famous—but Rita Skeeter was always full of shit and he reckoned it was nonsense. Not that he kept any particular tabs on the “war heroes” gang and what they were up to, but it was impossible to miss gossip about them whenever one picked up a paper these days. Wasn’t Granger currently dating that oaf Ronald Weasley? Another athlete. Although barely.

He would have bet she picked out something about a famous Quidditch player and the brainy young woman who swept him off his feet.

He realized only then that he thought of her as a woman. A real woman. Not a little girl, not a student, but an actual woman with sexual desires. There was something alarming about that.

He was interrupted when someone knocked on his office door.

“Come in.”

He had expected a student, or even Granger, but he had not expected Longbottom. The boy had kept a good distance from him all year, which suited Severus just fine.

“What is it?”

Longbottom attempted a smile as he walked over to Severus’ desk, but it was clearly forced. “I’m here to ask you for a favor, professor.”

He was torn between loving and hating that Longbottom still called him that. Granger had quickly graduated to calling him Snape. Coming from her, it felt more right, especially since they were technically colleagues now—although he _was_ her superior. But no one told him he had to think of Longbottom as a colleague, and in fact, Severus refused to do so. He decided to let it go and allow Longbottom to call him professor for as long as it continued to amuse him.

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s something to do with potions ingredients, actually.”

“Have you not been paying attention this whole term, Longbottom? I’m not the Potions professor anymore.”

“I know, sir, it’s just…” Longbottom bit his lip, lowering his voice even though they were alone in his office. “Whylma Zabini… She’s not so easy to talk to.”

“She’s not going to hit on you, Longbottom, you haven’t got any money.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her! I also told her I’ve got a girlfriend but I don’t think she cared very much.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Snape raised his eyebrow.

Severus hadn’t even spoken to Whylma this year, having close to no interest in what the enchantress was up to. She was a stately, beautiful woman; it was obvious why she’d been successful in marrying so often. She had the kind of presence and charm that only a Veela could rival. In fact, Severus suspected she secretly was one, but he couldn’t prove it.

The image of her trying to flirt with Longbottom was both comical and nauseating.

“What do you want, then?”

“Professor Zabini wants a certain ingredient Sprout’s never heard of before. You’re the first person I thought of. I figured you must know it.”

Damn it, he loved flattery. He remained determined not to like Longbottom, regardless.

“And you haven’t checked the library because you’re… what? Busy? Lazy?”

“I have checked, actually. There was very little there. I even asked Hermione about it, but she couldn’t help me.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Because you’ve given her so much work to do.”

Of course he had gone to Granger first. As if she knew everything...

“The amount of work I give her is none of your business. But I’m intrigued… What is this elusive ingredient?”

“Moon Beetle dung.”

Severus frowned. “Why in the world does she need that?”

“So you do know what it is! Brilliant.”

“Of course I know what it is.” He was secretly relieved he recognized it before Granger did. “The Moon Beetle is a very rare insect that lives under Moon Stones. The problem is that Moon Stones look identical to actual stones, but they glow during the full moon.”

Longbottom’s face fell, and Severus smiled. He could tell the boy had intuited his future task.

“Does this mean I have to just… walk around outside during the full moon, hoping I spot one?”

Severus grinned. “And once you find one, if you do, you’ll have to overturn it in the hopes there’s a beetle there. And once you find a beetle, if you do, you’ll have to wait for it to defecate, and then collect it. But don’t despair. If you don’t find the Moon Stones during this full moon, there’s always next month.”

Longbottom actually groaned.

The question occurred to Severus again. “Longbottom, this is a very rare ingredient—now you can see why—and it isn’t used in many potions. Did Professor Zabini say what she needed it for?”

“No, she just said it was important that Sprout get it for her. I told her Sprout only provided the Potions Master with ingredients she could grow in the greenhouse, but she seemed not to hear me.”

“Hm. On second thought, I will look into this for you.”

Longbottom’s face brightened. “Will you?”

“Just give me some time, as I am very busy. But this does intrigue me.”

“Why is that, sir? Do you know what kinds of potions Moon Beetle dung’s used for?”

“Yes, I do.” And that was what bothered him about it. “Some find Moon Beetle dung to be a powerful aphrodisiac, believe it or not. As a result, you can imagine the kinds of potions that are created with it.”

Longbottom crinkled his nose. “Dung doesn’t sound like much of an aphrodisiac to me, Professor.”

“Why don’t you try it next time with your girlfriend?”

Instead of appearing insulted as Severus had meant him to be, Longbottom actually grinned. “I don’t need to.” He had the cheek to wink before turning around to leave.

Shaking the disturbing images of Longbottom pleasing a woman from his head, Severus returned to his work. The morning passed quickly, as was usually the case near the end of term. Everyone was abuzz with excitement about the upcoming holidays, students were anxious about preparing for the exams, and professors juggled review material for their classes. This had always been, for the most part, a happy and alive time of year. It made him feel like he’d gone back in time and none of the horrors of the war ever happened.

It was a good feeling.

 

><

 

  
Hermione knocked at Snape’s office door. She had woken up early enough to bypass him that morning, and she was grateful for it. It had taken her a whole month to get used to the living situation, and she still wasn’t sure she was used to it, or that she would ever be. She never knew what to say to him when she bumped into him on the way to the bathroom. Or when she came out of her room for water in the middle of the night and saw him sitting in the armchair in his checkered robe, his legs crossed with a book in his lap, a monogrammed slipper dangling from a socked foot. She never knew he wore reading glasses, or that he snored lightly on rainy nights, or that he shaved the Muggle way with a classic straight razor that he always left out on the sink. It was quite a surreal thing to see Snape with stubble before he shaved.

Now she was at his office just before lunch, knocking on his door. She stepped inside at his response.

“I’ve brought you the draft of the fifth year exam.” She placed the rolled-up scroll in front of him on his desk.

He barely glanced at it; he was absorbed in an open book. The title of the section he was reading was printed on top of each page, and Hermione read it out loud.

“Love, Lust, and Infatuation Potions?”

Snape’s eyes snapped up to hers. He shut the book with a heavy thud.

Hermione couldn’t help the way her lips quirked. “Are you planning on making someone fall in love with you?”

“You know, some people in this world know how to mind their own business.” He looked up at her over his reading glasses. “Not something you were ever very good at, if I recall.”

“No,” she sighed. “Sadly not.”

“You have a natural curiosity for things, I suppose that’s the reason why.” He picked up the scroll she’d just brought, unfurling it as he spoke. “It does make sense for someone with such high intellect.”

Was that.... Was that a compliment? Snape had actually called her smart. She was stunned. Lips parted and speechless.

“This is terrible.”

Ah, that was more like the Snape she knew.

“What’s wrong with it?” she demanded. She had spent a whole day putting that exam together. She had revisited all the coursework since September, identified the most pertinent pieces of information, and created fifty questions.

“I don’t like it.” He let go of the parchment and it snappily rolled back up. He handed it back to her. “There’s no time to fiddle about with nonsense like this, Granger, I need this exam done by tonight.”

“I…” She exhaled hard. “What don’t you like about it?”

“There’s no need to get defensive. Just do as I ask.”

“I’m not getting defensive!” she exclaimed, then brought her voice back down. She licked her lips and tried to explain calmly. “If I don’t know what you don’t like about it, I won’t be able to fix it.”

He pulled off his reading glasses and stared at her with those piercing dark, almost black, eyes. “If you ever want to be a good teacher, Granger, you have to learn how to ask the right questions. I don’t care about them being able to regurgitate facts; I want to see that they know how to apply their knowledge. Your questions are too simple.”

She bristled. “You know what would be easier? If you just used your old exams.” He had been the Defense teacher in sixth year, after all.

“I’m sorry, Granger, but is this work _too hard_ for you?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why are you complaining?”

Hermione pressed her lips together. _Because you drive me insane, you sadistic old bastard._

Snape smiled.

Oh fuck, was he reading her mind? She’d forgotten he could do that.

“Stop that!”

“If I were really such a bad man, I’d insist on disciplinary action. Besides, I’m not that old.”

“I can think whatever I want. _Sir_. Besides, it’s you who needs disciplinary action because Legilimency isn’t allowed on Hogwarts property.”

There were two things wrong with what she’d just said. First and foremost, she had just told off Snape. She had told off her boss. Even if he deserved it, there was still some deep-seated need in Hermione to respect authority and follow the proper way of things, and now she just felt really cringey.

Secondly, she had suggested ‘disciplining’ him.

Oh, how innocent that word had been once.

Perhaps if they’d have had this conversation before she’d read _The Governess_ , all these connotations about the word ‘discipline’ wouldn’t have entered her head. But now that word meant something.

Now there were mental images.

She looked at Snape again, at his green and silver tie tucked into his waistcoat, at the shape of him underneath the parted black robes with the Hogwarts insignia embroidered on the chest in silver thread. His shirt collar hugged his freshly shaven neck. The angry scar was plainly visibly, and it added to this inherent roughness he’d always had.

Maleness, she suddenly thought.

Snape was masculine. Hard edged. Aggressive.

She had just noticed.

“I’ll just.” She cleared her throat as she took up the rejected exam. “I’ll work on it.”

“You make sure you do.”

God, had his voice always been so low and gravelly? He was still horrible and she hated him, but she was also getting very warm and had to get out of there. She turned and walked out; the hallway was much, much cooler.

 

><

 

  
He made sure to check that Whylma was sitting down in the Great Hall at lunch time. She didn’t wear the traditional witch’s hat most of the other professors wore. Her hair was braided and piled elegantly atop her head. She had sharply arched eyebrows, the only thing severe about her face. Otherwise she looked fresh and pretty and about twenty years younger than she probably was.

Just pretty enough that some might not blink an eye at her seven marriages.

But Severus wasn’t so naive. Moon beetle dung wasn’t merely an aphrodisiac, it had much more sinister uses. Knowing Whylma Zabini’s history, her track record with men who mysteriously died and left her their entire fortunes, he suspected something else was at play.

It was so simple to enter her office, Severus almost laughed. She hadn’t even fucking locked it.

He hadn’t been back in this office since before Slughorn took up the post. He had no idea how the man had kept it, but currently it was covered in plush fabrics and steeped in heady perfume. The drapes were heavy green velvet over black lacy shades. A bear skin rug lay in front of the mahogany desk, underneath two visitor’s armchairs. Perfume was coming from steamy incense that burned a corner of the room. A massive bouquet of black roses adorned the desk, upon which sat only a pad of elegant stationery paper and a massive feathered quill.

Did the woman do any actual work here? It did not look like it. There was an absence of any kind of useable office supplies and an overabundance of frivolous decor. Was this an office or a boudoir? She must pawn off all her work to her assistant.

He went around the desk to the drawers. Pulling an elegant gold handle, he found them locked. No matter. He pulled his wand out and stuck the end into the keyhole, and the drawer clicked open.

Most people’s so-called locking charm was child’s play.

There was nothing in there except a lipstick tube that rolled around when the drawer opened. Severus picked it up and uncapped it: the color was fiery, orange-red. He put it up to his nose and smiled. The licorice smell coupled with the orange hue was a classic characteristic of Arousal Elixir. Wearing this, anyone she greeted with a kiss on the cheek would become instantly aroused by her.

Illegal substance number one.

He put it back and shut the drawer, locking it again. He performed the same unlocking charm on the next four and found nothing of consequence. However, the sixth drawer produced something very interesting.

He unfurled the scroll to find a hand-drawn map. A compass showing North and South was drawn in the corner, and Severus flipped it right side up. It was very meticulous, very neat, but he frowned trying to figure out what the map was depicting. It couldn’t be Hogwarts as the shape was too irregular and not at all castle-like. It was like a wobbly-looking crescent moon with a very fat middle part and narrow ends of different lengths. Little pyramids densely populated the main area of the map. They looked like they could be trees.

This was a map of the Forbidden Forest. Severus suddenly saw it, the way it curved around a blank area where the castle grounds would sit.

There were other markings in red ink, scribbles that Severus couldn’t make out. The most interesting thing was a big circle around one cluster of trees on the south end of the forest.

He heard a noise and looked up. Someone was coming. It was time to put the map away and erase all evidence of his visit, but he couldn’t bring himself to put it back in the drawer, hesitating for too long. He rolled it back up and stuck it inside his robes, shut the drawer, and re-locked it. He managed to walk back around to the front of the desk before Whylma Zabini appeared in the doorway.

Her cat-like eyes flashed with surprise upon seeing him, but her mouth turned upwards into a smile.

“Professor Snape.” She strolled in, her robes swishing elegantly around her. She wore the old-style witches robes that resembled a dress. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes, I was.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled up to her. “We have yet to meet. I thought instead of sending a message by Owl, I’d come myself.”

“I’m so glad you did.” She grinned, lips painted orange-red. “It’s a pleasure, Professor.” She leaned in to hug him, possibly to peck him on the cheek.

Severus stopped her by gripping her elbow. Her eyes snapped up to his, her lips parted. He was squeezing too hard.

He loosened his grip and slid his hand down to take her fingers, bringing them to his lips. He pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand. “Severus will do.” She gave a small nod and a smile.

She wasn’t afraid of him, former Death Eater, right hand man to Voldemort. Why would she be when she had tricks up her sleeve?

She pulled free of him with a flourish of her robes. “Is there something I can do for you, or is this simply a friendly call?”

“I just missed my old office.”

She grinned again. “And how do you find it?” she asked with a sweeping arm gesture.

“Much changed.”

She raised a sharp eyebrow. “I cannot tell if you mean that as a compliment or not. But I suppose that is the essence of you, Severus.” She seemed to hiss his name. “Unreadable, mysterious… It’s no wonder you made such a good spy.”

He remained still, not reacting to her dig. If it even was a dig. There were only two reasons someone ignored the rules of tact and brought up his position in the war: they wanted to intimidate and disempower him by hinting at their moral disapproval, or they did approve and wanted to subtly let him know he was free to discuss the Dark Arts with them. Usually, the latter people wanted something. Which side Whylma fell on, Severus couldn’t tell. On the one hand, she was very clearly involved in the Dark Arts and had no qualms about using them to her advantage. On the other, she was also clearly trying to gain the upper hand, either by using her lipstick on him, or this.

Should he bring up the illegal Arousal Elixir now? No, it would be a waste. It was much better to blackmail her with it another time should he actually need something.

Or had she just been hinting that she knew he was spying on her?

There was a glossy element to her smirk; the oils of the illicit substance in her lipstick. If he had allowed her to kiss him, he would have become uncontrollably aroused. One of the more curious things about Arousal Elixirs, and what made them particularly insidious, was that they usually left one’s mental capacity completely intact. Meaning, Severus would be aware that he was being aroused against his will, but he would be powerless to stop himself from pursuing his urges. He’d have to fuck her, no matter how aware he was that he didn’t want to. It was cruel.

Suddenly Granger flashed in his mind. It was because of her stupid book about a woman taking advantage of a man. The red-orange colour would suit Granger. He wondered if she even owned any lipstick—probably not. He’d never seen her wear as much as a spot of makeup, but she would look good wearing this lipstick. With her soft brown hair falling loose around her face, it would look quite sexy.

He stopped this thread of thought as his body filled with heat. What a stupid thing to consider. Granger would never wear such an extravagant colour, not to mention she was far too morally upright to coerce a man into fucking her. However… she was reading a book about just such a thing, a small voice in his head told him.

He forced his mind back to the present, returning his attention to Whylma Zabini. “In truth,” he said, smiling congenially, “I should say I find the place much improved.”

“So you like it?”

“I do.”

“Well, you are welcome to visit any time.” Her almond-shaped eyes fell upon the tufted chaise situated to one side of the room. The suggestion hung in the air, ripe for his acknowledgement.

But he didn’t give her the satisfaction. He said a swift goodbye and left her smirking and staring after him. Emerging from the office into the classroom again, he took in a lungful of fresh, unperfumed air and realized how desperately he had needed it.

 

><

 

  
Hermione could have finished the exam Snape wanted her to re-write. It was totally possible that she could have finished it. It was within her ability, and she had enough time. The problem was, she had found herself taking a quick trip to Hogsmeade during the lunch hour and visiting a certain book shop with a certain selection of erotic titles.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, she was lying under the covers of her bed with her knickers off, halfway through the third book she’d bought. Not only was she uselessly wasting the spending money she had budgeted for the month, she was wasting work time. Were these fucking books enchanted to make her want to wank in the middle of the fucking afternoon?

But there was another bad thing happening. She had tried to ignore it at first, push it away whenever it came up, squash it, stomp on it, scream at her brain to stop torturing her with it. But in the end, she gave up and just… let it happen.

It started like this:

There was a Muggle story called _Sandra’s Roommate_ about a young woman named Sandra and her friend Tyler. Tyler had nowhere to stay after being kicked out of his flat for not paying rent, so he begged Sandra to let him stay at hers. He didn’t have much money, but it wasn’t money she wanted. Her condition was that Tyler do work around the house and anything else she asked, and he accepted. So he started to do the dishes every night, then the laundry, then the cooking, and eventually he was doing it all naked. He waited on Sandra hand and foot, catering to her every need—her _every_ need.

The bad thing rose up in Hermione and she could do nothing to quell it. Images assaulted her mind, and, though possibly ridiculous at any other time, they struck her as excruciatingly hot. She pictured the small quarters she shared with Snape, and what it would be like to see Snape actually doing dishes by hand and serving her tea and rubbing her feet after a long day’s work marking his stupid essays.

The second book she bought was titled _The Minister’s Secretary_ , about the Minister for Magic, Crispin Griswold, who recently divorced his wife. He got a new secretary, Ariella Cram, fresh out of Hogwarts. Griswold loaded poor Ariella with work and made her life exceedingly difficult. But one day Ariella had had enough and burst out in anger. Instead of being fired, like she thought she would have, Ariella was shocked to find that the Minister rather liked being yelled at and had sprouted a massive hard-on. He submitted to her, taking a spanking across his own desk, and from then on their relationship changed forever.

The bad thing crept in again. Hermione couldn’t stop imagining it was Snape as the Minister and she as the secretary, an arrangement not far from their current one. She imagined pulling Snape’s trousers down, revealing pale skin. Such a dignified man like Snape having his arse out, while the rest of him remained fully clothed, was a surprisingly erotic vision. Her climax after that particular fantasy was swift and deep.

She went to dinner starved, her stomach an empty pit and her entire body drained of all tension. Neville even asked her if she had finally tried smoking the weed he grew in the seventh greenhouse—the one Sprout never checked. She reminded him it was against the rules to grow weed in the greenhouses, but she also couldn’t stop smiling.

Her blissful state lasted only until curfew came around. Not that professors or teaching assistants had to follow it, as it was only for the students, but it was generally the time she retired to her room anyway. Coincidentally, Snape did the same.

Tonight he sat at the tiny table in the kitchen, bent over a piece of parchment that looked like a map. He also had an official Hogwarts grounds map spread out next to it and seemed to be comparing the two, tracing coordinates with his wand. A cigarette of mountain giant tobacco was rolled up and smoking next to him, as was his usual mug of tea, although Hermione knew it was probably not full of tea. Not only was it suspiciously lacking in steam, she could tell it was one of those times where he was “deeply focused” and “did not want to be disturbed”. He always drank and smoked during these times.

“Smoking is really bad for someone in your condition,” she said as she passed him on her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. “You should think of your health sometimes.”

“Are you a Healer, Granger?” he said without looking up.

“No, but I—”

“Then bugger off.” He grumbled something else she couldn’t make out and continued to study his maps.

“Fine, just die again,” she quipped and ducked into the loo. It bemused her to realize that she was slightly alarmed by the idea.

Unfortunately, her new bawdy fascination with Snape didn’t dissipate the next day, nor the day after. His presence in their living quarters seemed to become magnified, like he took up all the room, filled every inch of space. He was everywhere, even when he wasn’t. She came back one evening and saw the stub of a cigar burning in the ashtray, but didn’t see Snape. The scent of tobacco permeated the place, a rich and earthy aroma that was so distinctly _him_. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with it.

The orangey-yellow light of the oil lamp barely reached the kitchenette, swathing it in a warm glow. Hermione put the kettle on the burner and lit the flame with a flick of her wand.

“Excuse me.”

Hermione jumped. She turned to see Snape standing behind her, his robe tied casually around his waist.

“For fuck’s sake…” Her heart had sped up. “You startled me.” Where the hell had he come from?

“Next time I shall announce myself whenever I plan to come out of my room. Perhaps that will give you sufficient warning.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him toward a cabinet. She needed a mug for her tea. “All you need to do is try not to stalk up behind me.”

“I was not stalking. Your mind was just elsewhere.”

She spun around toward him. “Are you looking into my mind again?”

“No.”

“ _Stop_ doing that!”

“I said, I’m not.”

“I… I don’t even know if I believe you.”

“Why don’t you just learn Occlumency and put your little mind at rest?”

“You know what?” she spat. “I will.”

Snape smirked.

She clenched her fists. “Ergh! You’re infuriating!”

He tsked. “That’s no way to speak to your superior.” He reached over her to the cabinet. A waft of tobacco and something spicy—his aftershave—rolled over her. She thought he would brush against her, that the sleeve of his robe would sweep across her cheek, but somehow he didn’t.

He picked up a mug too, and she pettily wanted to tell him he couldn’t drink from her pot. This was her pot of boiling water, and he couldn’t have any!

She was being childish. He brought this out in her, and she became even more frustrated. He was horrible! She hated him. She wished she could do something to him… Slap him. Yes, she wanted to slap him across the cheek—oh, how satisfying that would feel, the sound of the smack of her hand against his skin—and push him hard until he fell. To the ground! He’d fall all the way to the ground.

She imagined the look on his face as he landed on the hard floor. What a good look. What a lovely look of bewilderment he’d have, his lips parted and his eyes wide in confusion. He’d never expect her to be so powerful. So physically dominant.

Then the image rapidly changed, and Snape was still on his knees but this time eating her out.

She inhaled sharply.

She looked up at him and saw his eyes narrow at her, and she turned away. _He will not see that!_ she chanted in her head, trying to rid herself of the image just in case he was looking, her cheeks burning with shame. With as steady a hand as she could, she poured the water, which she realized belatedly was not even boiling yet, into her mug. She also realized she hadn’t put any actual tea leaves in her mug, so she just had a cup of hot water. She took it and tried to leave the kitchen.

Snape stepped in front of her. “Are you quite alright, Granger?” He eyed her mug with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, get out of my way.” She stared hard at his chest.

He stood there for another moment, not moving and not saying anything. Until finally, he stepped aside. She fled as fast as she could back to her room and shut the door hard behind her.

Maybe she should get rid of her books. Clearly they were warping her brain.

She hated Ginny. How dare Ginny introduce her to the idea of being sexually dominant? What right had she to awaken such desires in Hermione? And, obviously, ruin Hermione’s life.

Now she was having fantasies about Snape, and it was just not right! See what happens when you start reading porn? She was right all those years to stick to lukewarm romances and textbooks! Textbooks were nice and dull, like proper reading material should be.

Unless it was a femdom textbook or something. Was there even such a thing? She had come across short manuals that she hadn’t bothered to pick up, but the thought of a whole textbook... Different chapters on different—

No!

It was impossible to start thinking of Snape this way. Her heart raced dangerously, and she needed to lie down to catch her breath and compose herself. She kicked off her shoes and socks and pulled off her robes and her jumper. Before she knew it, she was down to her bra and panties and keenly aware of the fact that she wanted Snape to walk into her room.

It was impossible. She shouldn’t want this.

But it made her scorchingly hot. She stared at the door, her mind providing an image of Snape bursting through and strolling in. Seeing her like this.

Would it turn him on? She was a young woman, practically naked and writhing with desperation, and he was a man. Surely he would be turned on. She wanted him to find her hot. She wanted him to find her irresistable. She wanted that power over him.

But it was just wishful thinking. The truth of the matter was, he wouldn’t be turned on; he’d be disgusted.

The thought had the effect of being drenched in ice cold water. She shut her eyes tightly, suddenly ashamed at her own desires. Of course he would be disgusted. This was _Snape_. He probably found her repulsive. He had always hated her. To him, she was still the little girl he had taught and tormented. She found herself embarrassed and angry and hateful all at the same time.

At least that was a better, and more familiar, way to think about Snape. At least she wasn’t turned on anymore.

The next morning she woke up early again and left before Snape rose. The work that had piled up weighed heavily on her, and she started on it before breakfast was even served in the Great Hall.

The day passed by much too slowly, and time seemed to literally drag. There was a lot to do for the end of the year, and even though on most days she attacked her work diligently, Hermione found herself too distracted to really get anything done. She would start something, her mind would wander, and then she’d remember something else that needed doing. She bounced around but never finished any one task, and that was exceedingly unlike her. Her attempt to make a to-do list only overwhelmed her, and she had to take a walk around the grounds. She found herself at Hagrid’s hut as the sun fell and ducked in for tea.

When she returned to her office—a large room shared by all the assistant teachers and populated with far too many desks—there was a student waiting for her.

“Mr Mason.” She went around to her seat. “What can I do for you this late in the day?”

Hugo Mason was one of Snape’s third year students, a shy boy without many friends. He was bright, but he didn’t do very well in Defense. Hermione suspected it was because Snape scared him. Hugo was holding a rolled up parchment in his fist and fiddling with the edge of it.

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but it’s about my essay.”

“The one on Boggarts from last week? What seems to be the problem?”

He handed her the parchment. Hermione unrolled it and looked over the answers. The mark on this was Poor, one category down from Acceptable, which would have been a passing grade. Poor meant he had failed. She recognized Snape’s spidery scrawl; this had been one of the exams he’d marked himself. Usually Hermione did all the menial labour of grading assignments and coming up with homework, but Snape sometimes liked to grade the exams on his own.

“It’s about question nine,” he said. “How do you eradicate a Boggart?”

“Mm, I see. You said with a Patronus charm.”

Hugo nodded, his cheeks darkening. “It was marked incorrect, Miss, but—with all due respect—I think it is correct.”

Hermione sighed. “The answer you were supposed to put down is with the Riddikulus charm.”

“I know but, you see, Professor Snape was walking around the room during the exam and when I got to that question he just stopped and stood right over me, staring at my work, and I…”

“You got nervous.”

“My mind just went blank. All I could think of was the Patronus.”

Hermione smiled kindly.

“But it’s still correct, isn’t it, Miss Granger?”

She licked her lip. “While it is true that one _could_ potentially get rid of a Bogart with a Patronus, the more obvious answer would have been the Riddikulus charm, since that is what we have been discussing in class.”

“But we discussed the Patronus as well.”

“Only tangentially…”

“And it would work, wouldn’t it?”

She could see why the boy was a Gryffindor. He was petrified of Snape and nervous about bringing up this issue, but he was determined to stand up for himself even if it was hard and uncomfortable. He reminded her so much of Neville that her heart went out to the boy.

She nodded gently. “It would indeed work, Mr Mason.”

“Then… Do you think you could… I’m sorry, Miss, but I calculated it and if I just got that one marked right, it would bring my mark up to an Acceptable. And I really need to pass this exam as I’m not doing so well right now.”

“It’s true. We need to talk more about that; perhaps you need a tutor. But about the exam, I’ll speak with Professor Snape.”

“You will?” Hugo’s face brightened. “Oh, thank you, Miss Granger!”

“I can’t promise he’ll change the mark! In fact, he’s not likely to. But I’ll bring it up.”

“I understand. Thank you so much.” 

Oh god. She was not looking forward to this at all. She was already developing a migraine just thinking about it. Having any kind of conversation with Snape was already stressful, but asking him to confront his own mistake, or convincing him he made one, might start the next wizarding war.

 

><

 

  
Severus put down the map and rubbed his eyes. He picked up the smoking cigar from the ash tray and took a long drag, letting the tobacco give him a glorious head rush. It hadn’t taken him long to identify the spot in the Forbidden Forest that the circle indicated on the map. He had a strong inkling as to what was located there: Whylma Zabini was looking for Moon Beetle dung, therefore, the circle likely signified a patch of Moon Stones, under which the beetles lived. It was only a week until the next full moon, and Severus could go on a little mission to look for them.

He wondered if Whylma had realized her map was missing yet. She probably knew that Severus had taken it. But she couldn’t prove it unless she caught him with it, and Severus hid it well during the day. He smiled to himself as he leaned back in his armchair and took another puff of the cigar. Had she memorized the spot on the map? Could she find the Moon Stones without it? He would have to take precautions the night he went looking for them to make sure she didn’t spot him.

He was shaken from his plotting by the creaking of the door as Granger came in. He could feel her eyes on him, but he chose to ignore her. If she had something to say to him, she could speak first. He blew out some smoke and tapped the cigar on the tray.

A few minutes went by wherein she went into her room and deposited her bag, went to the bathroom, came back out and hovered in the kitchen, went back into her room, and finally came into the sitting room, holding a scroll, and approached him.

She cleared her throat.

“Yes, Granger?” he asked without looking at her.

“I need to speak to you about something.”

“I can see that.”

He could see from the corner of his eye that she moved from one leg to another, clenching the scroll in both hands. Her apparent nervousness made him look up at her finally. She was standing over him, close enough that he could see the details in the embroidered Gryffindor shield on her sweater.

An insane vision flashed over him of Granger climbing into the armchair with him and straddling his lap. He pushed it away and swallowed down the heat it brought.

“I know you don’t usually do this,” she said, “but I promised that I would ask.”

He waited for her to go on, staring evenly into her eyes. Inevitably, his stare drifted down to her chest. Her breasts barely made an impression through the thick and shapeless wool sweater, which meant that they were small, possibly perky. He wondered if they’d even make a handful, or if he could massage the nipples to stick up. He imagined Granger standing there looking down at him, but topless and with perked up nipples.

He adjusted his crossed legs.

“It seems you’ve taken off points for a correct answer on Hugo Mason’s exam.”

Couldn’t be. Severus frowned. “Impossible.”

Granger scoffed. “I knew you’d react like this. You haven’t even asked which exam I’m talking about.”

“The exam on Boggarts is the last exam I graded myself. I’m assuming that’s the one you’re referring to?”

“Yes.” She held up the scroll and let it unfurl, rather obnoxiously, in front of him. He recognized the material and observed the red ink that marked various answers wrong.

He firmly pushed the parchment aside. “Well then, I’m sure I didn’t make a mistake.”

“You’re not infallible, Professor.”

“Granger, I’ve known that for a long time.” He sighed. “What is this supposed error, then?”

Granger started going on about Patronus charms, and how they were just as effective as Riddikulus charms… Severus had honestly stopped paying attention and his mind drifted elsewhere. There was frustration and a hint of hostility in her eyes, her brows furrowing tensely. Her mouth was downturned as she spoke. He recalled her illicit reading material, _The Governess_ , and imagined Granger making this face as she reprimanded him. She would make a fierce disciplinarian.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Mmm.” He picked up his cigar again and took a puff, blowing the smoke out in her face. It was hilarious and satisfying to watch her cough on it.

Granger waved the smoke away. “You know what? I _demand_ that you fix it!”

“Ooh?” A grin pulled at his lips. “You demand it, do you?”

“Yes!”

“What are you going to do, Granger? Are you going to _make me_ change it?” He resisted the urge to chuckle as her face got pinker. “How in the world are you going to do that?”

“I’ll go to McGonagall if you don’t change this mark. It’s not fair to penalize Hugo for an answer that is technically correct—not to mention, you bully the boy in every lesson. The same way you used to do, when I was in school. You’re just a—just a—a pathetic bully. And you haven’t changed.”

A spike of anger rose up in him, threatening to raise his temper, but he resisted it and pushed it down. He was too relaxed from his cigar and his drink, as well as titillated from his private thoughts about Granger, to let himself be angry now. But the hint of offense coloured his mood, percolating with his lust and turning him on viciously. His cock definitely had ideas of its own.

“Do you think McGonagall will punish me?” He leaned forward in his chair, and his lips were inches from her breasts. He wanted to stick his face in them. He was surprised she wasn’t moving away from him. The desire to look into her mind came over him but he managed to resist, although why he suddenly felt the need to respect her wishes about that, he didn’t care to contemplate. He looked up at her now from a much steeper angle. “Do you think that’s what I deserve?”

Granger’s lips moved silently, and the furrow in her brow changed from frustration to confusion. “I… I’m not sure if that’s… necessary. Changing the mark would suffice.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t think about it. Because I know you’d be lying.”

She balled her fists up. “I told you to stop looking—” Horror crossed her face instantly. “I mean… I haven’t thought about that!” She finally took a step away.

Emboldened by her reddened cheeks, he stood up from the chair, making her jump.

“Are you sure?” His voice came out low, menacing to his own ears; he wondered what he sounded like to her. Perhaps he could allow himself one peek… “I thought you liked the idea of punishment.”

Granger’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

With a smirk, he picked up his wand from the table and cast a wordless Accio. Something banged in her bedroom and then the object he summoned came flying. All he had to do was lift his hand and snatch the book from the air. Granger’s mouth dropped.

“Isn’t that the kind of thing you’re into?” he said, taunting her. He felt like an animal playing with its prey, and he rather liked it.

“How dare you,” she breathed.

“You should learn to hide things better.”

She jumped for it, and he held it up. He far surpassed her in height and used that to his advantage.

“Bastard.”

“Uh-uh-uh, Granger. Is that any way to speak to your superior?”

“You aren’t my superior, you… you horrible, mean…” She ground her teeth together, fighting for the words, and finally one out. “Arsehole!”

“Calm down, girl.”

She reached for the book again, and again, he held it out of her reach. When she failed to grab it, she stuck out her hand. “Give me my book.”

“No.”

“Give it back _now_.”

“I don’t think so.”

“And why the hell not! What possible reason do you have for wanting to torture me? You have nothing to gain from this, it’s only childish.”

“It’s very amusing as well.”

She licked her lips. “You saw me that day in the bookshop.”

“Of course I did, Granger; did you think you were being sly?”

“And ever since then…”

“I knew you were reading trash? Of course I did. You should thank me for keeping quiet about it all this time. I need to check if the school’s bylaws allow you to be in possession of pornographic material. Somehow, I suspect they do not.”

Granger was bright red but she remained determined to stand her ground. “I can bring up your spying on me, too. How would you like that? I don’t think that’s allowed in the rule book, either.”

He snorted. “McGonagall begged me to come here, or have you forgotten?”

She didn’t have anything on him. Empty threats. She was just embarrassed and trying to find some way to gain the upper hand from him. He should really pity the girl and let her off the hook. She was right about one thing, there was really no point to this.

“Fine, take your book.” He tossed it onto the table beside him. “If you really need it, I suppose I should allow you your little pleasure. Clearly Weasley isn’t doing enough for you.”

“Weasley? Do you mean Ron?”

“Who else would I be talking about, Granger? Your little boyfriend.”

To his surprise, Granger laughed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Ron and I broke up years ago. Soon after the war, actually. So your little jibe doesn’t work.” She snatched her book up. Their bodies were so close, almost pressing up against one another. She looked up at him this time, and although her face was still hot with colour, her eyes were fearless. “And I’ll have you know, there is nothing wrong with reading erotica. You can make fun of me all you want, but I simply don’t care.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s right.”

“Is that why you’re so flustered.”

The way she looked at him so searchingly and then licked her bottom lip and swallowed, made his heart beat faster. A strong, stabbing pain went through it, and he grimaced, cursing the ice that was there. Granger’s face darkened, and he was overtaken by the urge to tell her he wasn’t grimacing at her. He found himself bring his hand up and gripping her elbow.

She gasped softly. Her eyes pierced him, asking a million questions in that one gaze.

His resolve finally slipped and he swiftly entered her mind, searching quickly, looking for something to grasp onto.

He found it immediately. The force of it overwhelmed him, for it wasn’t an image or a thought, it was a feeling. A strong, all-consuming feeling that wafted so thickly he could almost smell it: she wanted him.

His cock filled to half hardness the moment he felt it. The room seemed to double in warmth. But how could it be true?

His voice rumbled in his throat. “You should have learned Occlumency, Granger.”

She sucked in a breath. “You fucking bastard,” she said on the exhale, and she tried to pull her arm away.

He didn’t let her. He even pulled her closer, until her body slammed against his. He brought his other hand to her waist and ignored her yelp; he was holding her too hard, probably hurting her. He didn’t let up his grip. Her hands clutched at him in a feeble attempt to push him away.

“Yes, I’m a terrible bastard. So why don’t you teach me a lesson, Granger?” He wondered if she could feel his cock pressing against her through his robes. “Go on. I know you can do it. You’re a powerful witch—you can probably force me to my knees.”

“Are you…” Her eyes were dark, her lips parted. “Are you serious?”

He shook her lightly. “Do it, Granger.”

“Stop that!” She wrenched herself away from him and this time managed to get free. In a moment, she had her wand out. “What are you getting at, Snape?”

Snape put up his palms, in a show of surrender. “I know what you want, and I’m just telling you what I want.” He was surprised that he’d actually admitted to it, but it wasn’t like it was any secret now. Besides, his cock was hard and he hadn’t had sex in a disgustingly long time.

Was he really going to have sex with Granger? The momentum of it hit him and he realized how bizarre this was. And yet here they were. She wanted him too, he had felt it clearly in her mind, and that knowledge was like an anchor and urged him on.

She wanted to fuck him.

“Do it,” he repeated. “Do what you’ve been wanting to do.”

It was clear she was fighting with herself.

He stepped forward until the tip of her wand pressed into his chest. “Do what you want to do,” he repeated.

He hadn’t expected her to drop her wand, grab him by the collar, and pull him in. Her mouth was on his, pressing their lips together. There was another painful sensation in his heart but it wasn’t the stabbing pain of ice that he was used it; it was something unfamiliar, but just as uncomfortable, like a rippling heat that seared his chest from the inside.

Granger threw her arms around his neck and he forgot all about it. He pulled her close and deepened the kiss. It was all heat and wetness. Soft lips and slick tongues. Sharp teeth against his bottom lip, biting and pulling.

It was lustful bliss until Granger pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flushed and breathing hard.

“Don’t be.” He leaned in again but she took a step back. Severus let out a frustrated groan.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Granger.” The last thing he wanted right now was to have a conversation.

“Alright then,” she said, her eyes darkening. She looked at him and bit her bottom lip. “You told me to do what I want. Anything I want?”

“Yes.” He reached for her yet again, and this time she grabbed his hands.

Slowly, she brought them down to her breasts, pressing his palms to them. “Here.”

“ _Yes_.”

He squeezed them, relishing in her intake of breath. They _were_ less than a handful, and desire rushed through him.

“Take my shirt off.”

Her tone was still shaky, but he could hear a thread of confidence begin to develop. It made him hot all over. He was all too happy to comply, pushing her robes from her shoulders and letting them fall to the floor. Gripping the jumper, her pulled it over her torso, and she raised her hands to aid him.

Her bra was light pink with rounded cups no larger than tea saucers. Severus’ groan rumbled from his throat as he stared, wanting desperately to uncover her tits. He so badly wanted to see them.

He had an urge to be delicate, and he pulled down the cups until her breasts were exposed. Fuck, they were perfect. He pulled down the straps as well, unable to stop himself. He had to get the damn thing off her, had to see her tits completely naked. Somehow he managed to unclasp the damn bra and whip it away.

Her tits nearly made him salivate. He gripped them savagely, all desire to be tender gone. He squeezed the small, soft mounds that honestly didn’t need a bra at all. They stood on her chest beautifully, and the nipples jutted out just as he’d imagined. He pinched them between his fingers just to feel them, just to pull them out more.

Granger hissed and squirmed, her hands clutching his upper arms. She liked it, he could tell. He massaged her nipples in his fingers until her jaw was slack and she whined aloud.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, so pleased and self-satisfied, but it snapped her from her state.

“Put your mouth on them.”

“Is that a command, Granger?”

“Fuck yes, it is.” She surprised him by pushing down on his shoulders.

He allowed her to guide him all the way down until he was on his knees. It wasn’t the perfect angle, but his face was that much closer to her tits and that was all that mattered. He got a better idea and turned her around by the waist, and she yelped as he pushed her back into the armchair. She caught on, however, and sat on the edge of the seat, spreading her legs for him to crawl between them.

He took one of her tits in his mouth and sucked on her nipple while his fingers played with the other one. She made the most delicious sounds, soft sighs and whines that went straight to his cock. He was pretty hard at this point, his cock aching pleasurably in the confines of his trousers.

He remembered her trousers and began to undo the button. Granger arched her back, lifting her arse for him. He managed to slide them off her, leaving her in just her knickers. Simple, white, cotton knickers; he would expect nothing else from Granger. It was all the same to him, because just seeing her naked was driving him insane. Her wild hair fell onto her shoulders, and she was absolutely stunning.

He pushed the cotton aside to reveal her pussy, and after merely a glance that made his heart race painfully, he pressed his fingers into it, searching for her entrance. She was slick and it was easy to find, and to slide a finger all the way in.

Granger his head up by his hair and brought his mouth back to her nipples. So she wanted more of that, did she? Severus smiled to himself as he ravaged her tits, sucking on her nipples until they were red. At the same time, he found her clit and rubbed it with his thumb in a nice, steady rhythm. She was panting in no time. Her desperation was evident as she began to hump his hand.

“You want more?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

Again, she pulled at his hair, and this time it stung. She forced him to look at her. “Keep going,” she demanded breathlessly.

Severus groaned. “You want me to do all that I can to please you?”

“Yes, god yes. Don’t stop until I’m happy.”

“I won’t.”

“Say—” Doubt crossed her eyes again. Worry creased her brow.

As much as he wanted to look into her mind and seek out the answer, he also wanted her to say it out loud. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

“Just tell me what you want.”

Granger seemed to be gathering her courage. “Say, ‘Yes, Ma’am.’”

There it was. Severus’ cock leaked pre-come as a new wave of lust surged within him. It felt blasphemous for him to speak those words to her—to his assistant, but moreover, to Granger—but he knew he was going to say them regardless. He wanted to.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said low, almost under his breath.

Granger’s eyes shut for a moment before fluttering open again. “Keep going.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Granger groaned. Every time he said it, it became easier. Somehow, it was one of the hottest things he’d ever done.

“More,” she urged.

He wasted no time in complying. His focus was on her clit, working it tirelessly. His fingers slipped and slid over it, massaging it until Granger’s whole body began to tremble.

 _How is that, Ma’am?_ he thought, amused by how quickly she peaked. _Am I doing a good job, Ma’am?_ He almost chuckled out loud. He would call her Ma’am all she wanted; he was going to fuck her soon, and then she’d see who was boss. This was a fun little game, but in truth, he couldn’t wait to put his cock in her.

Granger threw her head back and let out a high-pitched string of noises. They were beautiful to his ears. Her rubbed her clit even faster, pushing her over that edge and watching her become more undone with every passing moment. Her body shook as her orgasm passed over her.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Standing up, and ignoring the creak in his knees, he took Granger up by the waist and hoisted her into his arms. Even as weak as he’d become physically—years of fighting off poison and a frozen heart will do that to a man—he still carried her easily to his bedroom.

It was his turn now, and he wanted to take his time. She’d never seen his bedroom, and he noticed the way she looked around even through the post-orgasmic haze in her eyes. He placed her on the bed and climbed over her, hands roaming her naked body.

Her hands roamed over him too, fiddling with the fastenings on his robes and buttons of his shirt and trousers, and he was naked soon after. She kissed him as she undressed him, softly and less possessively than before. She was languid now, more at ease; her orgasm had driven the tension from her body. He could feel the change in the way she touched him.

Severus found her entrance again, all slick and wet. He lined up the head of his cock, pressing it just gently against her opening and relishing in the mind-numbing bliss that created. Finally, he pushed into her.

Her cunt was warm and tight; everything he needed. He closed his eyes and moved his hips.

Granger moaned.

He did it again, thrusting in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Granger moaned in his ear, her hands moving over his back and shoulders.

He continued to fuck her, letting out his own grunts and throaty noises. He could feel her muscles clench around his cock as a deeper orgasm began to form. He was going to make her come twice tonight, something he was proud of having the ability to do. It turned him on even more, the idea that he was giving her this much pleasure. That he could push her over the edge more than once.

He picked up the pace, fucking her good and well into the mattress. He was reaching the point where all he could think about was coming, and fucking, just brutishly thrusting into the warm heat of her cunt.

It didn’t take long for them both to shout of their orgasms, faces buried in each other’s necks.

 

><

 

  
Hermione woke up to a cup of tea made just as she liked it in the mornings—chai spice with a splash of cream—steaming by her bedside.

It was then she realized it wasn’t her bedside, but Snape’s. The ornately carved mahogany was so him. She observed that the four poster bed, just as lavishly decorated, that she lay in was draped with green curtains that were swirled with gold thread in a serpentine pattern. Everything about the room screamed Snape, and she found that rather than finding it jarring, the atmosphere comforted her. She sank back down into the pillow with a sigh, then got the idea to turn her face into it and inhale deeply. It smelled faintly of him. Her body reacted instantly and a shiver of lust ran through her.

She cast a Tempus charm and saw it was well past eight. Snape would be in his office by now. She was glad he was gone because having to face him and have an awkward chat about everything would only ruin her supremely relaxed state. Besides, now she had time to luxuriate in his sheets, stretch out and fantasize a little.

She imagined this was their flat—in a small town, perhaps, secluded enough for both their liking but not too far from London. On weekdays, she would wake up every morning to a perfectly prepared cup of tea, and on weekends Snape would wake her by putting his face between her legs. He’d service her well, being as completely enamoured of her as he was.

Hermione smirked to herself.

He’d follow a strict set of protocols, because she loved protocols. Some would center around worship of her body, like running her baths and washing her with a sponge and drying her off with fluffy towels, all while she’d enjoy a glass of wine to unwind after her long and challenging days as a celebrated magical theorist (she was very accomplished in this fantasy). Snape would finish by rubbing her body with essential oils and moisturizing her legs, which he’d consider a special privilege, and then beg her to let him lick her cunt. She’d sigh and say, ‘I suppose, but only because you’ve been such a good servant all night’, and he’d be so grateful he’d eagerly eat her pussy. Possibly moaning in ecstasy.

She realized her fantasy had gotten away with her and she had to wank.

When she finally reached for her tea, it was cold. Ah, well. However, it was only then she noticed the note.

Snape had written her a short message. Seeing his spiky scrawl, which up until now she’d only experienced in a professional capacity, made her whole body shiver with pleasure: _“Your tea, Ma’am. I hope it pleases you this morning. See you in my office when you awake”._

She practically jumped out of bed in her haste to shower and dress.

 

><

 

  
Severus was reading the morning paper when someone knocked on his office door. His cock stirred and he straightened up in his seat as he told Granger to come in.

It wasn’t Granger, though; it was Longbottom, who came in and shut the door behind him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Severus groused and flipped the page of the _Prophet_. “What do you want?”

“Lovely to see you, too, Professor.” Longbottom approached his desk. “I’m here to see if you’ve made any progress on the Zabini situation.” He lowered his voice as he said her name, even though the door was shut and no one else could hear him.

“As a matter of fact, I have. Come over here, Longbottom, and I’ll show you.”

Severus pulled out the map he’d pinched from Whylma’s office. Longbottom was duly impressed by the find, and he studied it with curiosity as Severus explained what the map depicted. He relayed his suspicion that the circle section marked the location of Moon Stones.

“So,” Longbottom said, “you’re planning on going out there tonight?”

“Yes, tonight is the full moon. However, I need a lookout. Someone to watch Zabini in case she comes out there and finds me investigating.”

“I’m your man! I can keep her occupied.” Longbottom then grimaced. “It won’t be fun, but I think it will be effective.”

Severus remembered Longbottom telling him that Whylma liked to flirt with him. He smirked as he recalled Longbottom’s horror. “Selling your soul in pursuit of the truth, eh?”

“The expression is ‘taking one for the team.’

“Yes, well, I didn’t peg you as someone interested in this kind of sleuthing.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Longbottom said confidently.

Severus realized it was true; he used to have little to no patience with Longbottom as a boy, for reasons Severus didn’t want to think about at that moment. But Longbottom was a man now, and Severus was a shadow of his former self, and perhaps it was time to put the dark days behind him.

“I don’t like that Zabini is doing something shady and potentially harmful to others. I find love potions despicable, and if she’s brewing them in secret then I want to stop her.”

“How very noble of you,” Severus drawled. “You Gryffindors have a way of being boring like that.”

“So why are you getting involved, if you’re so unconcerned about things like ethics and human decency?”

Snape leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs. “I’m bored.”

Longbottom snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m a frail, ailing man with few hobbies.”

“If you say so.”

“The truth is, I don’t think she’s just brewing love potions.”

Longbottom’s eyes widened. He took a seat in the guest chair and leaned forward. “You don’t? What do you think it is, then? What could she be using the Moon Beetle dung for?”

“There is a very rare potion called Veela’s Essence. It’s not something you ever come across in textbooks because it’s very old magic. Not to mention, it’s related to creature studies and most wizards are snobs about magical creatures and don’t credit their magic enough. Veela’s Essense used to be studied in the Medieval Ages, but largely, no one remembers it anymore.”

“Golly.” Longbottom was rapt with attention. “And you think she’s brewing that with the dung?”

“Yes, Longbottom, I do. For one, it would explain why Zabini was never convicted in any of her husband’s deaths. If you investigate the court filings on all seven deaths—which I have done— you will find that love potion was tested for in the autopsies of the last six husbands. They did not find it. The authorities already suspected her by that point, but since there was no hard evidence to prove foul play, she was never convicted.”

“But you think she was using this Veela Essence instead to, what, reel them in?”

Snape nodded. “It’s ingested by the perpetrator, whereas love potion is ingested by the victim. The Essence gives the drinker all the allure of a Veela, which would allow Zabini to target whichever man she had her eyes on. I daresay if she still had some and was using it, you would have already slept with her.”

Longbottom frowned. “It sounds vile.”

“It is certainly on par with love potions in terms of manipulation and mind control.”

“Why do you think she ran out now, after all those years of using it?”

“I’m not sure, but besides, it is only a suspicion at this stage. Once I investigate the Forbidden Forest tonight, I’ll see if there are indeed Moon Stones at the location indicated.” He tapped the map lying in front of him on his desk.

“How shall we communicate? If I don’t manage to detain her, I mean, and she’s coming toward you.”

“We’ll send Patronuses; they are the fastest and simplest way. You do know how to cast one, don’t you, Longbottom?”

“What do you take me for?” Longbottom grinned. “I killed Nagini, you know. The snake that gave you that.” He nodded at Severus’ neck, indicating the massive white scar.

Severus huffed, a dry little laugh. How ironic that this boy who could hardly stir a cauldron without making it explode had ended up being the man who severed Nagini’s head. Not for the first time since waking up in St Mungo’s, the world seemed impossibly bizarre to Severus, and he felt light headed with the weight of the past; he clutched the arms of his chair.

“Whatever you do,” Severus said, “ _don’t_ let her kiss you with lipstick on.”

At that moment, the door swung open. Granger appeared with a sly look on her face, which instantly fell upon seeing Longbottom.

“Oh! You’re here!” Her cheeks colored, and she deflated a bit. “Hello!

Fuck, she was wearing a skirt. Severus shifted in his seat, adjusting his robes. It was a short skirt, pleated and swishy. And she’d worn knee high socks with it. She was trying to kill him. If Longbottom weren’t present, he’d ask her if she’d saved them from her Hogwarts days.

“Hi, Hermione...” Longbottom looked back at Severus and then returned his gaze to Granger. “I was actually just going.” He stood up. “You two probably have a lot of work to do.”

“Just the usual!” Granger squeaked. Severus couldn’t contain himself and rolled his eyes. Smoothness clearly wasn’t one of her strengths.

“I just meant,” said Longbottom, “prepping for the end of term exams.”

“Oh, right. Of course we are. A lot of work, a ridiculous amount of work.”

Longbottom nodded but eyed her oddly as he passed her.

When he was finally gone, door shut behind him, Granger put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, dear.” She sighed. “I did not expect him to be in here. What were you two talking about anyway?”

“We were just gossiping about Sprout.”

Granger tsked. “Neville wouldn’t do that.” She strolled over to his desk, her step regaining its bounce. “I know you would, though. You horrible man.”

Severus’ lips pulled into a smirk. “Was I so horrible last night?”

Grager smiled and lowered her chin coyly. “Not as the night progressed…”

“I think you like me being horrible. You wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t.”

He didn’t want to think about what it meant that he and Granger were, apparently, fucking now. It didn’t have to mean anything. He refused to ruin it by letting his emotions get involved or having moral qualms about fucking his assistant. All he wanted was to keep doing it.

He rose from his seat and walked around his desk until he faced her. “Don’t you, Granger?” he pressed, stepping close enough that there was only an inch of space between them. He could smell her lavender shampoo in her damp hair. “You want me to be as horrible as possible.”

Granger reached up, wrapping her fingers around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Her other hand snaked to his waist, gripping him tightly. Severus let her turn him as they kissed and push him back against his own desk.

Letting her take the lead was surprisingly hot, that was for sure, but it was also pleasurable in another way that he couldn’t quite explain. It made him feel… wanted. Yes, he felt desired, sought after. All the things he’d never felt in his entire life.

A sudden wash of emotion overcame him and he broke the kiss, hissing an intake of breath as his chest felt stabbed by sharp shards of ice.

Granger eyed him searchingly. The hand gripping his neck slid around to cup his face. It was too tender a touch. Severus felt the beginnings of a dark weight on him. Her gaze was too warm, and her thumb running across his cheekbone was much too affectionate. He couldn’t let Granger look at him this way.

“Why don’t you stop being a soppy little girl and take what you want from me?”

Granger’s eyes darkened. She dug the nail of her thumb into his skin and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. That was more like it.

She kissed him again, and this time it became rough and full of teeth. He dropped to his knees of his own accord, not waiting for her to tell him. He pressed kisses to her stomach, dropping them lower and lower as he went. Her thighs were smooth under his fingertips. He still couldn’t believe she had worn this damn skirt. She had come here expecting sex.

As long as she only wanted sex from him and nothing else. He didn’t have anything else to give.

Somehow soon after, Granger ended up sitting on top of the desk and he between her legs. She grinned wickedly as she slowly parted her thighs, and he had no choice but to lower his gaze from her face, unable to resist the way her skirt rose up.

A rumbling groan escaped his lips as he saw skin, and only skin. No knickers. Just her bare cunt, which was already glistening as it parted for him. He moved his face closer to it, inhaling her scent. Fuck, it was intoxicating. His eyelids fluttered shut momentarily as he composed himself from the rush of heat that went straight to his cock.

“Don’t,” she said.

He looked up at her again, and her hand came to rest atop his head.

She said, slowly and deliberately, “Don’t shut your eyes.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he breathed, causing her smile to broaden.

“Good.” After stroking his head once, she gripped his hair in her fist, making him hiss. “I want you to look at it.”

He did. It was beautiful. One of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“Do you want that?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said again, more earnestly.

“What do you want to do?”

He let himself fall into the spell of this game. He stared at her cunt, with its inner pinkness and softness peeking out because she was spreading her legs so wide. What did he truly want right at this moment?

“I want to kiss you.”

Granger laughed breathily. “Do you? On my mouth?”

“No, Ma’am. Right there.”

She shifted her hips, moving it around, and he groaned.

“Do you think you deserve to put your mouth on my pussy?”

“No,” he groaned, and a tiny pang inside him told him meant it, but he pushed that away and focused. “Will you let me eat it?”

“Is that any way to ask?” She pulled on his hair painfully again. “Ask properly.”

“May I please eat your cunt?”

Granger let out a heavy breath. “That’s more like it. Yes, you may.”

He buried his face in her, losing himself in the sensations all around him—the softness of her thighs against his cheeks; the clean musk he inhaled; her slick wetness that tasted sweet on his tongue.

He’d show her. He was going to eat her out so well she’d be damn near singing. Even though her dominant act turned him on like mad, he also wanted to make her crazy with desire. To remember him and to need him again and again.

He sucked on her clit, spending long moments there lavishing it with attention. Granger’s breathing quickened and her noises became higher-pitched, but her biggest reaction came when his tongue found her entrance. So he lapped at it, gently at first to see how she liked it, and then made quick circles around it when it was clear that she liked it quite a lot. He alternated between licking and sucking on her opening, which necessitated pushing his face between her outer lips and getting her wetness all over him. With her encouragement in the form of tugging on his hair, he pushed his tongue into her.

He fucked her with his tongue, which quickly ached from the motion so he started to move his chin to the rhythm. Granger was being pushed further and further onto his desk, until she was lying on her back and Severus had to get up from his knees.

He was really too old for this. His joints were not those of a twenty-year-old, and his kneecaps felt like they were on fire. She hadn’t come yet, but she was close enough, and he was hard as a fucking rock. He was done playing the doting servant.

He pulled Granger’s skirt up until it was all bunched at her waist, and he held her legs far apart. Letting go only to quickly undo his trousers and get his cock out, he returned to holding her wide open for him and he slid straight into her in one thrust of his hips.

Granger gasped and arched her neck back. “Oh god. Ohhh.”

Severus pushed into her over and over, fucking her hard and fast. Her pussy massaged his cock so gorgeously, her muscles tightening and loosening alternately. This was exactly what he needed. To fuck Granger to within an inch of her life. The only thing he regretted was not opening her top beforehand so he could see her little tits bouncing happily.

It didn’t take much longer for her to peak, and he could feel it coming from within her. Her muscles spasmed. Granger was saying “ _Oh_ ” over and over again, and then just whining in pleasure as her orgasm finally overtook her. The flutter of muscles inside her cunt finally pushed him over the edge, as well.

He grunted his release as it rushed through him, shoving himself deeper into her a few more times for good measure. As soon as he came, a deep sense of satisfaction settled over him all at once. It overwhelmed him, and as soon as he slid out of her, he all but fell into the chair behind him.

They both lay silent, breathing heavily. Granger’s legs were still parted, and he could still see her pink cunt clearly. A wry smile pulled at his lips.

The pleasant view was inevitably disrupted as Granger slowly got up. Her hair had dried into the most insane wasp’s nest he’d ever seen. Even so, he found her hair was ridiculously appealing to him, these days.

Her chest was still rising and falling hard. “I should go get cleaned up…. Again.” She chuckled.

As she sat there smiling at him in all her glorious disarray, his chest was struck again by the cruel jut of ice. His warm glow was subsiding rapidly, and he found he couldn’t look at her sunny, happy face.

“Yes,” he said, his voice stilted, “you have a lot of work to catch up on.”

A frown began to form. “So do you,” she said.

Severus nodded. “We have dawdled enough for one day.”

“Dawdled?” She swallowed, hopping off the desk and fixing her skirt. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Is that what you call this?”

Severus could only feel the painful stabbing in his heart, the cursed ice rearing its ugly head once more. He would have to Owl St Mungo’s and ask for a check up; perhaps their stasis was faltering, because he felt more frigid than normal. Icicles seemed to be growing in his insides where the ice in his heart already was, and they fucking hurt.

“What else would you call it?” he spat, sudden discomfort and pain making him testy.

Granger didn’t say a word as she adjusted her skirt and hair, and then all but stomped out.

He regretted that she was leaving like this, but what else could he do? He had wanted to fuck her, and he had. Where did she think this was heading? If she was looking for something else from him, she was barking up the wrong tree. There was nothing he could give her. Nothing.

 

><

 

  
Hermione was pushing her food around her plate, having no appetite for lunch. She was trying not to think about what had transpired earlier with Snape, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been a total fool. It made her sick and slightly nauseated, and food wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. She was saved from her depressive musings when Neville sat down next to her.

“Hey, Hermione.” He picked up a roll from the center of the table and popped it on his plate. “How are you? You seemed sort of flustered when I saw you earlier. Is Snape overloading you with work again?”

“Urgh,” she groaned, “please don’t say his name right now.”

Neville frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

With a sigh, she wondered how embarrassing it would be to confide in Neville about all of this. Not the lewd details, of course, even if the kind of sex they were having wasn’t a foreign concept for him, if Ginny were to be believed. But could she tell Neville that she had become involved with Snape? That their relationship was not strictly professor and assistant anymore?

Thinking about it now made her feel so stupid. How could she have let things get this far? Months ago, when she had first been told she’d be working under Severus Snape, she’d been horrified. She’d nearly resorted to pleading with McGonagall to hire somebody else, anybody else. What had happened in these few months of term that had convinced her Snape was someone she’d love to jump into bed with?

Living with him had turned him into a real person. When she thought back to the Snape of her Hogwarts days, she could barely believe they were one and the same. He was not the man she knew back then. Living and working with him all this time had changed him for her.

But he _was_ the same, and she should have remembered that. He was the same bastard he’d always been. He didn’t actually like her. He didn’t want to pursue anything more with her.

The worst part of it all was that she couldn’t deny she had developed feelings for him.

But it was just sex for him, and it could never turn into anything else.

“I just…” She wasn’t sure where to start. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Oh yeah? You can tell me what it is, Hermione. Knowing you, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Hermione laughed dryly. “Oh, trust me, this time I’ve cocked up pretty badly. I don’t know quite how to tell you, or even if I should.”

“You don’t have to.” They sat in silence for a moment, Hermione moving mashed potatoes around with her fork, until Neville looked at her and added under his breath, “But is it about Snape?”

“Fuck, is it that obvious?”

He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have suspected anything until this morning.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s gone on for very long.”

Neville raised his eyebrows. “How long _has_ it been going on?”

“Just since last night!”

“Wow, Hermione…. Wow.” His eyes widened. “Snape...”

“Stop that! I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Don’t you dare say anything to anyone.”

“I won’t!”

“Not even to Ginny! Promise me.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“What a fucking nightmare,” she said, shaking her head.

“So you and Snape. You…”

“Yes.”

He blew out a lungful of air. “I imagine the issue is… Snape.”

Despite how shitty she was feeling, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes,” she repeated. “Exactly. The problem is also me, though. I don’t know what I expected from him, but I should have known sleeping with him wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Has he done something to you?”

“No, nothing like that. He just… I just have a feeling he’s not very open to… He sees it as just sex.”

Neville looked sufficiently sympathetic, but she could see in his eyes he was also thinking, what did you expect?

“And that’s fine!” she said. “It’s perfectly fine. I don’t want anything else, either.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

She bit her lip as she looked at him askance. “The problem is that that’s not true.”

Neville nodded. “Well, think of it this way. It’s only been a day. You never know what will happen.”

It would be wise advice if they’d been talking about anybody else. But Hermione did feel a little better, especially since Neville wasn’t making her feel like a total idiot for hooking up with Snape. “You’re taking it a lot better than I thought you would, honestly,” she told him. “I’m really impressed, and grateful. It’s nice to have you to talk to this year, you know.” She left off adding that her usual friends weren’t around; Harry or Ron or Ginny. She had never been particularly close to Neville at school, but working with him as a colleague this year had been wonderful.

Neville shrugged. “No problem. Also, I’ve been getting closer to Snape, myself, believe it or not. Not in that way!”

“Obviously.”

“He’s not as bad as he used to be. Maybe that snake bite sorted him out.”

Hermione shoved him on the arm, though she was unhappy enough with Snape at the moment to let herself smile a bit.

“I’m actually helping him with something tonight,” Neville continued.

“Oh?” Her curiosity peaked. What could the two of them possibly be working on together?

“I don’t know if I should say too much, but it’s about Zabini.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Whylma Zabini?”

“That’s right. She’s up to something, and Snape’s keen on finding out what it is. Actually, he has a pretty good suspicion already. He found this map in her office and he’s going to follow it tonight.”

“Oh my god, that bloody map I’ve seen him studying lately! He’s obsessed with it. What’s this all about, Neville? Tell me.”

“You can’t mention to him I’ve told you.”

She snorted. “I’m not likely to talk to him anytime soon.” She wasn’t going to talk to the arsehole until he approached her first. And even then, she wasn’t just going to fall into his arms again.

“Alright well, it’s a secret mission to find some kind of dung beetle in the Forbidden Forest. Zabini’s brewing a Veela potion with it.”

Hermione stared at him, her incredulity probably evident on her face. “Are you talking about Moon Beetles and the Veela Essence?”

Neville’s eyes widened. “How the hell do you know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Neville, please. What else could it be, if you’re talking about beetle dung and a potion Whylma Zabini might brew? Anyone who reads up on ancient magic knows about Moon Beetles only being available during the full moon, and that’s tonight. It’s quite obvious.”

“So you know all about it, then?”

“I didn’t know Snape was on some sort of secret mission to find Moon Beetles, no. But he’s been pouring over that odd map and comparing it to the Hogwarts map for days.”

“Well now he thinks he’s figured out the spot where the Moon Stones are.”

“By the Southwest trail?”

Neville’s jaw dropped. “Hermione, how—”

She waved her hand. “Oh please, I could have told him that ages ago. So what’s the problem?”

“He stole the map from Zabini’s office.”

“Oh, god… What a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, so he’s worried she’ll be after him. That she suspects he’s got it and will be looking for the Moon Stones, too.”

Hermione sighed. “And your role in all this?”

“I’m going to distract her.”

“Neville! No, you will not!”

“I already promised him I would. And anyways, it’ll be easy.” He broke into a grin. “She already fancies me.”

“Ugh.” She might as well give up. Let them do their stupid mission. “If Zabini enchants you into falling in love with her, I’m not going to stop Ginny from hexing your balls off; you know that, right?”

“She won’t do any such thing! Zabini, that is,” he clarified quickly. “Ginny would totally do the hexing the balls thing.”

 

><

 

  
The forest was chilly, and Severus didn’t want to risk a warming charm because they were traceable. If Zabini were following him, she could easily detect it; she was a witch worth her salt.

It was fucking dark out, and he didn’t want to light his wand, either. He’d even tripped over the raised root of a tree. He was starting to wonder if this whole thing was worth the trouble. Longbottom’s words from earlier returned to him. He had asked Severus why he cared about stopping Whylma Zabini, and Severus had laughed it off. But perhaps he was trying to do the right thing, too.... What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

He reached the spot with the Moon Stones. In truth, they were beautiful things to behold. A patch of about thirty of them sat together in the exact location the map depicted. Their white and green iridescent glimmer made them stand out starkly from the normal rocks sprinkled about, and their light cast an eerie glow on the surrounding tree trunks.

His job now was to overturn each stone to look for Moon Beetles. If he could collect them all, there was no chance of Zabini getting the dung she needed for the Veela Essence.

He upturned about ten rocks before finding any beetles. Instead of blasting them to smithereens, he decided to keep them. He could give them to Sprout to keep for her collection; he’d have to pick up a few of these stones as well, for the beetles would never survive under a nonmagical stone. Sprout mostly dealt in plants, but she also enjoyed fostering a small collection of other ingredients that could be used in potions or even healing salves and the like that she provided Pomfrey with. The professors had always helped each other, Hogwarts was a little ecosystem of collaboration. Sprout and Hagrid provided ingredients, either in the form of plants or animal byproducts, for the Potions Master, who in turn brewed any concoctions the medical staff needed.

His musings distracted him when he should have remained alert. He didn’t hear Zabini’s approach until it was too late and the tip of a wand was pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Either you’re getting old or you’re getting stupid. I’d bet on both.”

Severus exhaled and mentally barraged Longbottom with all kinds of foul language. He had one job to do, and he didn’t even manage that. Slowly, he turned around to face Whylma.

“You didn’t find the boy appealing enough?” he said. He was taking a risk pissing her off, but it also might distract her until he figured out a way to get out of this mess. “He hasn’t made his fortune yet, but perhaps in a few years…”

“Shut up, Snape,” she snarled. Her usually pretty features suddenly weren’t so attractive anymore. “What do you think you’re doing out here?”

“I’m just taking a stroll through the Forbidden Forest, as one does. It’s quite cool and peaceful this time of night. A brisk walk does wonders for the nerves; you should try it.”

She stuck her wand in him harder. “I know you took my map.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What map?”

“You were the last person to visit my office before it _mysteriously_ disappeared.”

Severus tried reaching for his wand while she was talking, but she spotted him. In a flash, blinding light burst from her wand tip. He didn’t feel a thing for a few seconds, but his vision went black and he fell to his knees with a heavy thud. He felt himself trying to groan, but he couldn’t. Nothing came out. And then the pain started.

Terrible, excruciating pain emanating from his throat. Severus instinctively put his hand there, and he touched the slick wetness of blood and the grotesque texture of wounded flesh. His vision returned in sparkling light, and he looked down at his hand. There was blood squirting from his throat. She had slit it open at the scar again.

He had no idea if she was still there or if she had left him to die. All he could see when he looked up toward Hogwarts was a swirling picture of grey and black shapes that vaguely resembled a castle. And then… a shining white light approaching.

Longbottom’s stupid Patronus. It was too late.

 

><

 

  
When he woke up, Severus found himself in a familiar place. He groaned as he looked upon the distinctive ceiling of a St Mungo’s hospital room. He’d had enough of this place over the last four years, and suddenly he was back again.

He tried to sit up, eliciting an explosion of pain from his straining throat.

“Let me help you,” said a voice he knew immediately.

His pulse spiked as Granger’s hands touched him. He forced a smile that was all embarrassment as Granger helped him into a sitting position. Why was she, of all people, here? Where were Longbottom and Whylma Zabini?

“It was Za… Za...” Fuck, his throat was on fire. His voice came out low and gravely.

“Zabini, I know.” Granger sat in an armchair by his bed with her legs crossed and her hands casually folded in her lap. The picture of professionalism.

It struck Severus at that moment how capable she was, and how safe he felt with her being there. He trusted her. In her skill to deal with the Healers and whatever medical attention Severus might have needed while he’d been unconscious; in her inexplicable foreknowledge about things; and in her capacity to treat him with compassion.

“Did you bring me here?” he asked croakily.

“No, McGonagall did.”

He found he was strangely disappointed about that.

He swallowed, ignoring the way his throat slightly burned. “Then why are you here?”

Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of emotion, but it was gone as soon as it came. “It was my Patronus that found you.”

The Patronus had been hers, not Longbottom’s. But… “How?”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a withering look. “How did I know you were on some foolish treasure hunt? I learned it from Neville. We are friends, you know.” She sighed, shaking her head. “You two are so ridiculous. Seducing Whylma Zabini. Really?”

Severus gave a minute shrug. “I didn’t think Longbottom could do it, either. And apparently, I was right.”

“I believe he could have, he’s very attractive.”

Severus frowned, something fierce rising in his chest. He snorted, adding, “Oh is he, now?”

Granger smiled knowingly at him, and he looked away angrily. There was no need to look at him like that. It irked him that she found Longbottom attractive, but that was only because he disagreed; Longbottom was goofy and annoying. It wasn’t because Severus was jealous.

“Unfortunately,” Granger said, “it turns out Whylma Zabini is also a Legilimens, and she saw Neville’s motive in his mind before he even had much of a chance. You two were completely unprepared for this mission.”

“Alright, alright...Fine, we bollocksed it up. It’s Longbottom’s fault, but nevertheless… What happened to Zabini? She was escaping.”

“I called Harry and had him sort her out. He caught her immediately.”

“Oh.” Severus scowled. “Well, that’s good.”

“She won’t be making any more Veela Essence. The evidence against her is overwhelming, and I believe she’ll be easily convicted.”

At least that was over with. Admittedly, he was a bit peeved that he hadn’t been the one to nab her and instead had gotten himself thrown in the hospital again. He had set out to expose a nefarious, longtime criminal, but all he’d done was manage to get himself caught and almost killed. Damn it, he was losing his touch. Maybe this was a sign that his spying days were well and truly over. He really shouldn’t be doing anything of the sort at any rate, in his condition; Granger would have probably told him that if he’d asked. And Granger was usually right.

A moment later, Healer Shepherd came into his room. He was the one who had overseen Severus’ recovery over the last four years.

“Good to see you up,” said Shepherd. “I see you haven’t been following my orders for _rest and relaxation_.”

Severus grunted.

“The good news is that the cursed ice on your heart hasn’t spread nor has it been aggravated by the ordeal you went though. I thought maybe the re-opening of the snake’s bite wound would have triggered further growth of the ice, but I’m happy to see I was wrong about that.”

“Ice?” Granger asked, looking at the Healer with round eyes. She brought her gaze quickly to Severus. “What ice?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Healer Shepherd said. “I wouldn’t have brought up the details of your condition if I’d known your visitor wasn’t privy. For some reason, we all assumed this was your girlfriend or relation.”

“No!” Granger said, flushing. “Not his girlfriend. Definitely not a relation. I’m just here because… because… Well, we’re colleagues and...”

Healer Shepherd’s raised an eyebrow, and Severus smirked. He was curious to see where this was going. In truth, he was desperate to hear why Granger had stayed here with him. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been here (or even how long he’d been here, or how long ago the Forest incident had been), but the fact that she was here at all was… very interesting.

“Not just colleagues, roommates,” Granger was blabbering. ”We’re roommates because of work—but really we’re acquaintances. Yes, we’re both colleagues and acquaintances.” She set her lips as if to say that was her final answer.

“Right,” said the Healer. “Well, I’m sorry, Miss, but if you’re not a relation or a girlfriend, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room while I go over Mr Snape’s medical information.”

“It’s alright,” Severus said, “she can stay. I don’t really give a damn.”

The Healer nodded. “That is your choice. As I was saying, with the risk this activity posed to your heart, I am inclined to keep you here for another month in order to monitor your systems.”

“A month!” Severus was so startled, he started coughing. The wound on his throat ached. “I refuse to stay here for a month. I don’t even want to stay here another ten minutes. Let me out of this bed!”

He started to get up, ignoring the pain, when Granger’s hands were on his arm. He stopped, staring at her. Her eyes were so genuinely concerned.

“Sit down!” she snapped, incongruous to the look of worry on her face. Her firm grip was a surprising source of comfort, and he felt his whole body relaxing back down onto the bed.

“But,” the Healer went on, “I will allow you to return home. It’s very near the holidays, and I am of the opinion that being among loved ones this time of year is often better medicine than anything we have brewing upstairs in the lab.”

Severus’ heart—his still-frozen, still-cursed heart—seemed to drop in his chest. He had no loved ones to speak of. Going home meant sitting alone in his living room at Spinner’s End surrounded by nothing but dusty old books. He was better off staying where he was, for all the good it would do him.

Yes, he loved his books, and he even recalled sitting among the stacks and stacks of them only a few months ago before Granger fetched him for Hogwarts. How he had relished being there, back then. But now, all he could imagine was how desolate the place would feel without Granger’s incessant humming. Without the way she pattered about in slippers in the evenings, knocking into things because her nose was pressed into a book and she couldn’t even pry her eyes away to mind where she was going. There would be none of her shoddy furniture for him to mend, and none of her hair ties lying around. Nor the smell of chamomile in the evenings steeping cozily in its pot; she always had at least one cup to calm her mind before bed.

Healer Shepherd said some more nonsense about how he needed to be careful and relax and try not to aggravate his heart. Severus wasn’t listening to most of it, but since Granger was there, she’d tell him if he’d missed anything pertinent. Which he doubted.

He was mostly thinking about the way his chest felt like lead.

When Shepherd finally left, Granger turned on him instantly.

“I never knew you were infected with that ice curse. If you had… if you had only told me.”

“What would you have done about it? All the Healers at St Mungo’s haven’t figured out how to rid me of it.”

“Well.” She swallowed. “I’d have tried.”

The stabbing in his chest was almost unbearable. He couldn’t even look at her. “No, you shouldn’t waste your time on me, Granger.” _You’re much too young and lovely. I’m an old miser with a lifetime of regret who deserves nothing from you._

He inhaled sharply when she found his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. He looked up at her and into her soft, brown eyes.

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” she said.

He could fall into the depths of those eyes if he let himself, they were so earnest and kind. Like magnets for his soul. Perhaps the only thing that would heal him was diving into Granger’s arms, or so said something deep inside him that Severus couldn’t deny any longer.

After another near death experience, everything looked different to him. How many second chances was he going to be given before he figured it out.

All at once, the old hag from the pub entered his mind like an apparition. She was laughing out loud, her yellow teeth sharp and crooked. It was like she was laughing at him—at his stupidity—for it had taken him so long to see what was right in front of him.

 _Listen to your heart,_ she had advised him. It was the only way to break the curse.

Severus knew that, at this point, he would listen to his heart regardless. Because it was leading him to Granger, and suddenly that wasn’t such a ludicrous notion.

He squeezed her hand back. “Granger…” He inhaled, bracing himself against the feelings rising up in him. “Hermione,” he exhaled.

“Yes?” she asked softly, though her voice was tense.

“I am very glad you’re here.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Me too.”

A tangle of words were forming in his head, and he felt he had so much he needed to say. Like _sorry_ for the way they last parted. Like _thank you_ for the glorious sex and the way she touched him. He made it sound like it meant nothing to him, and he had been trying to convince himself of the same thing.

The door opened again, and Granger let go of his hand.

It was the Mediwitch, rolling in a cart full of glass bottles that tinkled against each other with every turn of the wheel. She wore a merry smile and told him it was time for his cocktail of potions. Painkillers and anti-inflammatories and nausea relievers. He was tempted to tell her the only thing giving him nausea was the bright green color of her robes.

And worst of all, her presence had apparently brought Granger to her senses. She stood up from the armchair, collecting her jacket from the back of it. “I’d better go.”

He wanted to tell her, no! Wait! Don’t go! But how the hell was he supposed to say that without completely embarrassing himself?

“I’ll administer the exam,” she said. “Don’t you worry about that. Just focus on healing in the next few days, and perhaps I’ll catch you before I leave for the holidays. Otherwise, I’ll see you after Christmas.” She forced a smile. “Goodbye, Snape.”

Granger nodded to the Mediwitch and took her leave.

 

><

 

  
She had packed her final item of clothing into her trunk and sat on her bed, staring at her luggage. Tomorrow morning, she’d leave Hogwarts and go back to her parents’ house for the holidays. She’d also visit the Burrow at some point during Christmas or Christmas Eve. All she could think about was that it was going to be a long month.

She had thought about Snape every day that he’d been gone. His absence in their quarters was profound; not only had she grown used to him, she’d grown desperately attached. At one point, she had even considered writing to him, but she’d felt a bit foolish about doing so. She’d said her goodbye at the hospital, and that’s where things would stay until she saw him again in the new year.

It was difficult for her to live with the uncertainty of it, unsure about his feelings for her or how he’d react to seeing her again come January. He had been almost sweet by the end there. But she swallowed down her hope because Snape was a mysterious creature and not always a very kind one. She knew this. She couldn’t let her heart get away with her.

She had done some research into cursed snake bites, and apparently they only occurred in cases like Nagini’s where the creature was horribly warped by Dark Magic. Since Nagini was a Horcrux, one of the darkest forms of magic there was, it stood to reason that the effects of her bite would be so devastating. Hermione was horrified when she read about the curse of the frozen heart, morbidly fascinated by the way it worked and also alarmed that it had happened to Snape. The ice replaced actual tissue, freezing the muscle of the heart while still allowing it to beat and function. But if the ice spread through the entire organ, the victim would literally die of a frozen heart.

There were no known cures. The fact that the healers at St Mungo’s had managed to contain it was nothing short of miraculous.

Hermione sighed. Her own heart was feeling heavy and sore.

She decided to make a cup of tea so she went into the kitchen and filled the kettle, placing it on the stove and lighting the fire the Muggle way. She heard a creaking sound and turned to see the door opening. Frozen in confusion, her pulse raced madly when she saw it was Snape.

Snape walked in on a cane. She recognized it as a standard issue hospital cane that she had seen patients at St Mungo’s using. He stopped upon seeing her, his eyes locking with hers.

“Snape!” Her mouth dropped open. “What—You’re out!”

“I’m out,” he said, nodding. He made a strangled grunting sound as he walked in slow, teetering steps over to his favorite armchair. Beside it, he kept his box of cigars. When he opened it and began to remove one, Hermione all but sprinted to him.

“Don’t you dare take one of those things!” She slammed the lid of the box shut again, just barely missing his fingers. “Are you out of your mind? You have just got out of hospital, you have no business smoking. In fact, I should throw the whole box of them away; they’re wretched for your health, which is hanging by a thread as it is.”

“Granger, you’re lucky I don’t have the energy to fight with you.” He sank into his chair. “I’m exhausted.”

“I… I thought I wasn’t going to see you again before Christmas.”

A wry smile curled his lips. “Well, here I am.”

“Yes,” she said, almost in disbelief. “Here you are.”

“The healer did say I should spend Christmas with my loved ones.” Snape’s laugh dripped with bitterness. “I plan to spend it here, with the ghosts.”

“You’re staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?” She had expected him to return to his house that he had been so reluctantly dragged from in September.

“Mmm.” He leaned his head back, shutting his eyes. “I was considering going back to Cokeworth, but the cooking is infinitely better here.” He smiled to himself.

“I’m going home,” she said. “I’m all packed.”

His smile spread deviously. “Did you pack any of your dirty novels?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Actually, I’m leaving them all here. Feel free to read them, if you like. You’ll probably be bored and lonely.”

“I will be lonely,” he admitted, surprisingly. He opened his eyes and looked at her, and Hermione’s heart fluttered. “I will be very lonely, indeed.”

She held her breath. What could he mean—was he implying he would miss her, or the sex? Her heart raced in her chest as they continued to gaze at one another, the air thinning between them.

She knew what she wished he meant. She had wanted that for a long time now. Maybe since even before the first time they’d slept together.

“Get out of my head,” she said, on the off chance he was looking.

“I’m not in your head, Granger. And you still need to learn Occlumency.”

“Good.” She would hate for him to see any of the things she was feeling now.

“Or perhaps you should learn Legilimency, and then you could see what’s inside my head.”

“And what would I find there?”

Snape chuckled. “Besides the gloom? Right now, the tiniest glimmer of hope.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing her hand. Waves of desire shot through her instantly, heating her up from the inside. And something else, something more tender. She took his hand in hers.

“Hope that…” His face paled, and clearly it took him a lot of effort to get the words out. “Perhaps you’ll stay here, at Hogwarts, with me.”

For a moment she didn’t think she had heard him right. “For Christmas?”

“Yes.”

He was asking her to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Because he would be here, and he wanted her to spend Christmas with him. It was the kind of invitation that answered to her wishes.

“Snape...” She just had to make sure. Her heart was too wrapped up in this to risk it being something that might hurt later.

“Call me Severus.”

She swallowed, ignoring the renewed fluttering of her heart. “I don’t want to stay here just to fuck you when I could be spending Christmas with my family and friends. I need to know it’s…” _More than that._ “... not something I’d regret.”

His grip tightened on her hand. A look of grave sincerity crossed his face, all traces of his joking smile gone.

“Hermione, I came back here in the hopes of catching you before you left. There’s something else I have to tell you. They let me go early because, my heart, it is finally healed.”

She frowned. “But… there is no cure. I looked it up.”

Snape chuckled. “You brilliant girl. It’s true, there is no cure—save for one. To admit to your heart’s desire. Apparently all I had to do all this time was simply listen to what it wants. Ever since I let myself admit what I felt for you, the ice began melting away inch by inch.”

She shook her head. “That’s impossible.” Then she registered the other words he had said. “Wait—what you feel for me?”

Snape nodded. “It’s my heart’s desire. I am fully aware that you might not return my affections, but that’s no longer something that is going to hold me back from expressing them. I have never felt this way before. Having a full heart again must be making me into a sap. But I feel better than I have in years, and it’s because of you. I care about you, Hermione. Over these last few months, I have grown to care about you very much.”

Hermione was dumbfounded. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined such tender words coming from Severus Snape, nor that she’d be this elated to hear them. But her heart was feeling full, inflating her chest near to bursting. She realized belatedly that she was grinning from ear to ear.

Snape pulled her by the hand, and she naturally fell into his lap. Being so close to him again made her tingle all over. His dark eyes bore into her, and for once she wasn’t worried about him peering into her mind because she trusted him and knew that he was not. She’d still have to take up Occlumency, but that was beside the point.

She touched his face, her fingertips brushing his stubbly jawline as she cupped his cheek. She could feel his heart beating in his chest, finally whole and strong again, and it made her dizzy with delight. Severus was leaning in and shutting his eyes.

He pressed his mouth against hers, and a riot of butterflies exploded in her stomach. She kissed him soundly back. His lips felt perfectly right against hers.

Perhaps she would stay a few more days. It couldn’t hurt. And if Severus agreed to come with her to her parents on Christmas day, all the better.

 

><

 

_Later..._

  
Snape sighed as he buttoned his shirt again. Healer Shepherd had finished scanning his chest, which meant that this appointment was almost over. It was a necessary check up, but it was still a tedious hassle.

“It looks like everything’s… perfect,” Shepherd said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have to say, Snape, I’m shocked. We didn’t think this was possible.”

“What can I say?” Snape said, standing up and throwing his robe back on. “I’m a very lucky man.”

Shepherd had no idea. Severus had gotten very lucky over the holidays. What was more, now that they were over, it didn’t appear his luck was going to end any time soon.

“Still,” Shepherd said, “I want you to continue to take it easy. Be careful, Snape. Don’t do anything too physically strenuous. Your heart may have healed, but you are still weakened overall from the whole ordeal. I predict you will be using that cane permanently from now on.”

The cane didn’t bother him. In fact, Hermione thought it made him look distinguished. She had even gotten him a proper one for Christmas, although when she found the time to go out and get it, he did not know. It had a silver snake head for a handle. He loved it.

“I will try not to over exert myself,” he assured the healer.

He smiled as he left the office, thinking about all the ways he was going to exert himself tonight. First, it would start with serving Granger tea.

 

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@heyitsamorette](http://www.heyitsamorette.tumblr.com)


End file.
